THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


/ 


\ 


LONDON   SOUVENIRS 


BY 


CHARLES  W.   HECKETHORN 


AUTHOR  OF  "THE  SECRET 
SOCIETIES  OF  ALL  AGES," 
"  LINCOLN'S  INN    FIELDS,"    ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

A.   WESSELS   COMPANY 
1900 


)4    3*1 


CONTENTS 


I, 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 


XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 


PACK 

GAMBLING-CLUBS    AND    HIGH    PLAY                  -  1 

WITTY    WOMEN    AND    PRETTY    WOMEN          -  -12 

OLD    LONDON    COFFEE-HOUSES          -  24 

OLD    M.P.S    AND    SOME    OF    THEIR    SAYINGS  -          35 

FAMOUS    OLD    ACTORS         -                   -                  -  -47 

OLD    JUDGES    AND    SOME    OF    THEIR    SAYINGS  -          59 

SOME    FAMOUS    LONDON    ACTRESSES                  -  -          71 

QUEER    CLUBS    OF    FORMER    DAYS                       -  -          82 

CURIOUS    STORIES    OF    THE    STOCK    EXCHANGE  -          94 

WITS    AND    BEAUX    OF    OLD    LONDON    SOCIETY  -       105 

LONDON    SEEN    THROUGH    FOREIGN    SPECTACLES  -       117 
OLD    LONDON    TAVERNS    AND    TEA-GARDENS 

I.    THE  GALLERIED  TAVERNS   OF   OLD   LONDON  -        135 

II.    OLD   LONDON   TEA-GAKDENS      -                   -  -158 
WILLIAM    PATERSON    AND    THE    BANK    OF   ENGLAND-       173 

THE    OLD    DOCTORS              -                   -                  -  -184 

THE    LOST    RIVERS    OF    LONDON       -                  -  -       2l6 

ROGUES    ASSORTED               -                  -                  -  -       253 

BARS    AND    BARRISTERS     -  265 
THE     SUBLIME     BEEFSTEAKERS     AND     THE     KIT-KAT 

AND    ROTA    CLUBS             -                  -                  -  -       285 

HAMPTON    COURT    PALACE    AND    ITS    MASTERS  -       300 


625922 


LONDON    SOUVENIRS 
i. 

GAMBLING-CLUBS    AND    HIGH    PLAY. 

PHILOSOPHERS  may  argue,  and  moralists  preach, 
the  former  against  the  folly,  and  the  latter 
against  the  wickedness  of  gambling,  but,  as  may 
be  expected,  their  remonstrances  pass  but  as  a  gentle 
breeze  over  the  outwardly  placid  ocean  of  play,  causing 
the  fishes — the  familiars  of  the  gambling  world — lan- 
guidly to  raise  their  heads,  and  mildly  to  inquire : 
'  What's  all  that  row  about  ?  Gambling  is  one  of  the 
strongest  passions  in  the  human  breast,  and  no  warning, 
no  exhibition  of  fatal  examples,  will  ever  stop  the  in- 
dulgence in  the  excitement  it  procures.  It  assumes 
many  phases  ;  in  all  men  have  undergone  disastrous 
experiences,  and  yet  they  repeat  the  dangerous  and 
usually  calamitous  experiments.  In  no  undertaking 
has  so  much  money  been  lost  as  in  mining  ;  prizes  have 
occasionally  been  drawn,  but  at  such  rare  intervals  as  to 
be  cautions  rather  than  encouragements ;  and  yet,  even 
at  the  present   day,  with  all  the  experience  of  past 

1 


2  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

failures,  sanguine  speculators  fill  empty  shafts  with 
their  gold,  which  is  quickly  fished  up  by  the  greedy 
promoters. 

Some  of  the  now  most  respectable  West  End  clubs 
originally  were  only  gambling-hells.  They  are  not  so 
now  ;  but  the  improvement  this  would  seem  to  imply  is 
apparent  only.  Our  manners  have  improved,  but  not 
our  morals ;  the  table-legs  wear  frilled  trousers  now, 
but  the  legs  are  there  all  the  same,  even  the  blacklegs. 
But  it  is  the  past  more  than  the  present  we  wish  to 
speak  of. 

Early  in  the  last  century  gaming  was  so  prevalent 
that  in  one  night's  search  the  Leefs  Jury  of  West- 
minster discovered,  and  afterwards  presented  to  the 
justices,  no  fewer  than  thirty-five  gambling-houses. 
The  Society  for  the  Reformation  of  Manners  published 
a  statement  of  their  proceedings,  by  which  it  appeared 
that  in  the  year  beginning  with  December  1, 1724,  to  the 
same  date  in  1725,  they  had  prosecuted  2,506  persons 
for  keeping  disorderly  and  gaming  houses ;  and  for 
thirty-four  years  the  total  number  of  their  prosecutions 
amounted  to  the  astounding  figure  of  91,899.  In  1728 
the  following  note  was  issued  by  the  King's  order  :  '  It 
having  been  represented  to  his  Majesty  that  such  felons 
and  their  accomplices  are  greatly  encouraged  and  har- 
boured by  persons  keeping  night-houses  .  .  .  and  that 
the  gaming-houses  .  .  .  much  contribute  to  the  cor- 
ruption of  the  morals  of  those  of  an  inferior  rank  .  .  . 
his  Majesty  has  commanded  me  to  recommend  it,  in  his 
name,  in  the  strongest  manner  to  the  Justices  of  the 
Peace  to  employ  their  utmost  care  and  vigilance  in  the 
preventing   and   suppressing   of    these   disorders,   etc."' 


GAMBLING-CLUBS  AND  HIGH  PLAY       3 

This  warning  was  then  necessary,  though  as  early  as 
1719  an  order  for  putting  in  execution  an  old  statute 
of  Henry  VIII.  had  been  issued  to  all  victuallers,  and 
others  whom  it  might  concern.  The  order  ran  :  '  That 
none  shall  keep  or  maintain  any  house  or  place  of  un- 
lawful games,  on  pain  of  40s.  for  every  day,  of  forfeiting 
their  recognisance,  and  of  being  suppressed  ;  that  none 
shall  use  or  haunt  such  places,  on  pain  of  6s.  8d.  for 
every  offence;  and  that  no  artificer,  or  his  journeyman, 
husbandman,  apprentice,  labourer,  mariner,  fisherman, 
waterman,  or  serving-man  shall  play  at  tables,  tennis, 
dice,  cards,  bowls,  clash,  coiting,  loggating,  or  any  other 
unlawful  game,  out  of  Christmas,  or  then  out  of  their 
master's  house  or  presence,  on  pain  of  20s.1 

There  were  thus  many  attempts  at  controlling  the 
conduct  of  the  lower  orders,  but  the  gentry  set  them  a 
bad  example.  The  Cocoa-Tree  Club,  the  Tory  choco- 
late-house of  Queen  Anne's  reign,  at  No.  64,  St.  James's 
Street,  was  a  regular  gambling-hell.  In  the  evening  of 
a  Court  Drawing-room  in  1719,  a  number  of  gentle- 
men had  a  dispute  over  hazard  at  that  house ;  the 
quarrel  became  general,  and,  as  they  fought  with  their 
swords,  three  gentlemen  were  mortally  wounded,  and 
the  affray  was  only  ended  by  the  interposition  of  the 
Royal  Guards,  who  were  compelled  to  knock  the  parties 
down  with  the  butt-ends  of  their  muskets  indiscrimi- 
nately, as  entreaties  and  commands  were  disregarded. 
Walpole,  in  his  correspondence,  relates :  '  Within  this 
week  there  has  been  a  cast  at  hazard  at  the  Cocoa-Tree, 
the  difference  of  which  amounted  to  o£J180,000.  Mr. 
O'Birne,  an  Irish  gamester,  had  won  =£1 00,000  of  a 
young  Mr,   Harvey,  of  Chigwell,  just  started  from  a 

1—2 


4  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

midshipman  into  an  estate  by  his  elder  brother's  death. 
O'Birne  said  :  "  You  can  never  pay  me.11  "  I  can,11  said 
the  youth  ;  "  my  estate  will  sell  for  the  debt.11  "  No,11 
said  O'Birne,  "  I  will  win  ,£10,000  ;  you  shall  throw  for 
the  odd  £90,000."  They  did,  and  Harvey  won.1  It  is 
not  on  record  whether  he  took  the  lesson  to  heart. 
The  house  was,  in  1746,  turned  into  a  club,  but  its 
reputation  was  not  improved ;  bribery,  high  play,  and 
foul  play  continued  to  be  common  in  it. 

Another  chocolate-house  was  White's,  now  White's 
Club,  St.  James's  Street.  As  a  chocolate-house  it  was 
established  about  1698,  near  the  bottom  of  the  west 
side  of  St.  James's  Street ;  it  was  burnt  down  in  1773. 
Plate  VI.  of  Hogarth's  '  Rake's  Progress '  shows  a  room 
full  of  players  at  White's,  so  intent  upon  play  as  neither 
to  see  the  flames  nor  hear  the  watchmen  bursting  into 
the  room.  It  was  indeed  a  famous  gambling  and 
betting  club,  a  book  for  entering  wagers  always  lying 
on  the  table ;  the  play  was  frightful.  Once  a  man 
dropped  down  dead  at  the  door,  and  was  carried  in ; 
the  club  immediately  made  bets  whether  he  was  dead 
or  only  in  a  fit ;  and  when  they  were  going  to  bleed 
him  the  wagerers  for  his  death  interposed,  saying  it 
would  affect  the  fairness  of  the  bet.  Walpole,  who 
tells  the  story,  hints  that  it  is  invented.  Many  a 
highwayman — one  is  shown  in  Hogarth's  picture  above 
referred  to — there  took  his  chocolate  or  threw  his  main 
before  starting  for  business.  There  Lord  Chesterfield 
gamed  ;  Steele  dated  all  his  love  news  in  the  Tatler 
from  White's,  which  was  known  as  the  rendezvous  of 
infamous  sharpers  and  noble  cullies,  and  bets  were  laid 
to   the   effect   that    Sir  William  Burdett,  one   of  its 


GAMBLING-CLUBS  AND  HIGH  PLAY       5 

members,  would  be  the  first  baronet  who  would  be 
hanged.  The  gambling  went  on  till  dawn  of  day  ;  and 
Pelham,  when  Prime  Minister,  was  not  ashamed  to 
divide  his  time  between  his  official  table  and  the  piquet 
table  at  White's.  General  Seott  was  a  very  cautious 
player,  avoiding  all  indulgence  in  excesses  at  table, 
and  thus  managed  to  win  at  White's  no  less  than 
£200,000,  so  that  when  his  daughter,  Joanna,  married 
George  Canning  he  was  able  to  give  her  a  fortune  of 
£100,000. 

Another  club  founded  specially  for  gambling  was 
Al mack's,  the  original  Brooks's,  which  was  opened  in 
Pall  Mall  in  1764.  Some  of  its  members  were 
Macaronis,  the  fops  of  the  day,  famous  for  their  long 
curls  and  eye-glasses.  'At  Almack's,'  says  Walpole, 
'  which  has  taken  the  pas  of  White's  .  .  .  the  young 
men  of  the  age  lose  ,£10,000,  £15,000,  £20,000  in  an 
evening.'  The  play  at  this  club  was  only  for  rouleaux 
of  £50  each,  and  generally  there  was  £10,000  in  gold 
on  the  table.  The  gamesters  began  by  pulling  off  their 
embroidered  clothes,  and  put  on  frieze  garments,  or 
turned  their  coats  inside  out  for  luck.  They  put  on 
pieces  of  leather  to  save  their  lace  ruffles ;  and  to  guard 
their  eyes  from  the  light,  and  to  prevent  tumbling 
their  hair,  wore  high-crowned  straw  hats  with  broad 
brims,  and  sometimes  masks  to  conceal  their  emotions. 
Almack's  afterwards  was  known  as  the  '  Goose-Tree ' 
Club — a  rather  significant  name — and  Pitt  was  one  of 
its  most  constant  frequenters,  and  there  met  his 
adherents.  Gibbon  also  was  a  member,  when  the 
club  was  still  Almack's — which,  indeed,  was  the  name 
of  the  founder  and  original  proprietor  of  the  club. 


6  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Another  gaming-club   was  Brooks's,   which    at    first 
was  formed  by  Almack  and  afterwards  by  Brooks,  a 
wine-merchant  and  money-lender.    The  club  was  opened 
in  1778,  and  some  of  the  original  rules  are  curious : 
'21.  No  gaming  in  the  eating-room,  except  tossing  up 
for  reckonings,  on  penalty  of  paying  the  whole  bill  of 
the  members  present.     30.  Any  member  of  this  society 
that    shall    become   a   candidate   for   any    other   club 
(old   White's  excepted)  shall    be   ipso  facto  excluded. 
40.  Every  person  playing  at  the  new  quinze-table  shall 
keep  fifty  guineas  before  him.     41.  Every  person  play- 
ing at  the  twenty-guinea  table  shall  keep  no  less  than 
twenty   guineas   before  him.1      According  to    Captain 
Gronow,   play  at  Brooks's    was   even    higher   than   at 
White's.      Faro   and    macao   were   indulged  in   to  an 
extent  which  enabled  a  man  to   win  or  to  lose  a  con- 
siderable fortune  in  one  night.     George  Harley  Drum- 
mond,   a  partner  in   the  bank   of   that  name,  played 
only  once  in  his  life  at  White's,  and  lost  ,£20,000  to 
Brummell.     This  event  caused  him  to  retire  from  the 
bankimr-house.      Lord  Carlisle   and  Charles  Fox  lost 
enormous  sums  at  Brooks's. 

At  Tom's  Coffee  House,  in  Russell  Street,  Covent 
Garden,  there  was  playing  at  piquet,  and  the  club  con- 
sisting of  seven  hundred  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  many 
of  whom  belonged  to  the  gay  society  of  that  day  (the 
middle  of  the  last  century),  we  may  be  sure  the  play 
was  high. 

Arthur's  Club,  in  St.  James's  Street,  so  named  after 
its  founder  (who  died  in  1761),  was  a  famous  gambling 
centre  in  its  day.  A  nobleman  of  the  highest  position 
and  influence  in  society  was  detected  in  cheating  at 


GAMBLING-CLUBS  AND  HIGH  PLAY       7 

cards,  and  after  a  trial,  which  did  not  terminate  in  his 
favour,  he  died  of  a  broken  heart.  This  happened  in 
1836. 

The  Union,  which  was  founded  in  this  century,  was  a 
regular  gambling-club.  It  was  first  held  at  what  is 
now  the  Ordnance  Office,  Pall  Mall,  and  subsequently 
in  the  house  afterwards  occupied  by  the  Bishop  of 
Winchester. 

In  the  early  days  of  this  century  the  most  notorious 
gambling-club  was   Crockford's,  in  St.  James's   Street. 
Crockford  originally  was  a  fishmonger,  and  occupied  the 
old  bulk-shop  west  of  Temple  Bar.     But,  having  made 
money  by  betting,  '  he  gave  up,1  as  a  recent  writer  on 
'  The  Gambling  World  1  says,  *  selling  soles  and  salmon, 
and  went  in  for  catching  fish,  confining  his  operations 
to  gudgeons  and  flat-fish ' ;  or,  in  other  words,  he  estab- 
lished a  gambling-house,  first  by  taking  over  Watier's 
old  club-house,  where  he  set  up  a  hazard  bank,  and  won 
a  great   deal   of  money ;   he  then   separated  from   his 
partner,  who  had  a  bad  year  and   failed.     Crockford 
removed    to    St.    James's    Street,    where   he    built   the 
magnificent  club-house  which  bore  his  name.     It  was 
erected  at  a  cost  of  upwards  of  ,£100,000,  and,  in  its 
vast   proportions    and    palatial    decorations,   surpassed 
anything  of  the  kind  ever  seen  in  London.     To  support 
such  an    establishment  required  a  large  income  ;   yet 
Crockford  made  it,  for  the  highest  play  was  encouraged 
at  his  card-tables,  but  especially  at  the  hazard -tables, 
where  Crockford  nightly  took  his  stand,  prepared  for 
all    comers.      And   he   was   successful,    and    became   a 
millionaire.     When  he  died  he  left  £700,000,  and  he 
had  lost  as  much  in  mining  and  other  speculations.    His 


8  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

death  was  hastened,  it  is  said,  by  excessive  anxiety  over 
his  bets  on  the  turf.  He  retired  from  the  management 
of  the  club  in  1840,  and  died  in  1844.  The  club  was 
soon  after  closed,  and  after  a  few  years'1  interval  was  re- 
opened as  the  Naval,  Military,  and  Civil  Service  Club. 
It  was  then  converted  into  dining-rooms,  called  the 
Wellington.  Later  on  it  was  taken  by  a  joint-stock 
company  as  an  auction-room,  and  now  it  is  again  a 
club-house,  known  as  the  Devonshire  Club. 

We  referred  above  to  Watier's  Club.  It  was  estab- 
lished in  1 807,  at  the  instigation  of  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
and  high  play  was  the  chief  pursuit  of  its  members. 
'  Princes  and  nobles,'  says  Timbs  in  his  '  Curiosities  of 
London,1  '  lost  or  gained  fortunes  amongst  themselves.1 
But  the  pace  was  too  fast.  The  club  did  not  last  under 
its  original  patronage,  and  it  was  then,  when  it  was 
moribund,  taken  over  by  Crockford.  At  this  club,  also, 
macao  was  the  favourite  game,  as  at  Brooks1s. 

One  of  the  most  objectionable  results  of  promiscuous 
gambling  is  the  disreputable  company  into  which  it 
often  throws  a  gentleman. 

'  That  Marquis,  who  is  now  familiar  grown 
With  every  reprobate  about  the  town.  .  .  . 
Now,  sad  transition  !  all  his  lordship's  nights 
Are  passed  with  blacklegs  and  with  parasites.  .  .  . 
The  rage  of  gaming  and  the  circling  glass 
Eradicate  distinction  in  each  class ; 
For  he  who  scarce  a  dinner  can  afford 
Is  equal  in  importance  with  my  lord.' 

This  is  just  what  happened  when  gambling-hells  were 
openly  flourishing  in  London,  and  what  happens  now, 
when    gambling- clubs    abound,  and    are    almost   daily 


GAMBLING-CLUBS  AND  HIGH  PLAY       9 

raided   by  the   police,  when   some  actually  respectable 
people  are  found  mixed  up  with  the  rascaldom  which 
supports  these  clubs.     A  perfect  mania  seems  to  have 
seized   the  lower  orders  of  our  day   to   gamble;    but 
formerly,  for  instance,  in  Walpole's  time,  in  the  latter 
half  of  the  last  century,  the  upper  classes  were  the  worst 
offenders,  of  which  the  just-mentioned  statesman  and 
epistolary  chronicler  of  small-beer,  which,  however,  by 
long  keeping  has  acquired  a  strong  and  lasting  flavour, 
gives   us   many  proofs.     '  Lord   Sandwich,'  he  reports, 
'  goes  once  or  twice  a  week  to  hunt  with  the  Duke  [of 
Cumberland],  and,  as  the  latter  has  taken  a  turn  of 
gaming,  Sandwich,  to  make  his  court — and  fortune — 
carries  a  box  and  dice  in  his  pocket ;  and  so  they  throw 
a  main  whenever  the  hounds  are  at  fault,  upon  every 
green  hill  and  under  every  green  tree.1    Five  years  later, 
at  a  magnificent  ball   and   supper  at  Bedford  House, 
'  the  Duke  was  playing  at  hazard  with  a  great  heap  of 
gold  before  him.     Somebody  said   he   looked   like  the 
prodigal   son  and  the  fatted  calf  both.1     Under  such 
circumstances  it  could  not  fail  that  swindlers  yar  ex- 
cellence  sometimes  found   their  way  among  the  royal 
and  noble  gamblers.    There  was  a  Sir  William  Burdett, 
whose  name  had  the  honour  of  being  inscribed  in  the 
betting-room  at  White's  as  the  subject  of  a  wager  that 
he  would  be  the  first  baronet  who  would  be  hanged. 
He  and  a  lady,  '  dressed  foreign,  as  a  Princess  \  e  +1^ 
House    of   Brandenburg,1    cheated    Lord    Castledurrow 
(Baron  Ashbrook)  and  Captain  Rodney  out  of  a  hand- 
some sum  at  faro.     The  noble  victim  met  the  Baronet 
at  Ranelagh,  and  addressed  him  thus  :  '  Sir  William, 
here  is  the  sum  I  think  I  lost  last  night.     Since  then  I 


10  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

have  heard  that  you  are  a  professed  pickpocket,  and 
therefore  I  desire  to  have  no  further  acquaintance  with 
you.1     The  Baronet  took  the  money  with  a  respectful 
bow,  and  then  asked  his  Lordship  the  further  favour  to 
set  him  down  at  Buckingham  Gate,  and  without  further 
ceremony  jumped  into  the  coach.     Walpole  writes  to 
Mann,  in  1750,  that  '  Jemmy  Lumley  last  week  had  a 
party  of  whist  at  his  own  house :  the  combatants,  Lucy 
Southwell,  that  curtseys  like  a  bear,  Mrs.  Bijean,  and 
Mrs.  Mackenzy.     They  played  from  six  in  the  evening 
till  twelve  next  day,  Jemmy  never  winning  one  rubber, 
and  rising  a  loser  of  i?2,000.  .  .  .     He  fancied  himself 
cheated  and  would  not  pay.     However,  the  bear  had  no 
share  in  his  evil  surmises  .  .  .  and  he  promised  a  dinner 
at  Hampstead  to  Lucy  and  her  sister.     As  he  went  to 
the  rendezvous  his  chaise  was  stopped,  and  he  was  advised 
by  someone  not  to  proceed.     But  proceed  he  did,  and 
in  the  garden  he  found  Mrs.  Mackenzy.    She  asked  him 
whether  he  was  going  to  pay,  and,  on  his  declining  to 
do  so,  the  fair  virago  took  a  horsewhip  from  beneath 
her  hoop,  and  fell  upon  him  with  the  utmost  vehemence.'' 
Members  of  clubs  were  fully  aware  of  the  nefarious- 
ness  of  their  devotion  to  gambling.     When  a  waiter  at 
Arthur's  Club  was  taken  up  for  robbery,  George  Selwyn 
said  :  '  What  a  horrid  idea  he  will  give  of  us  to  the 
people  in  Newgate  V     Certes,  some  of  the  highwaymen 
in  that  prison  were  not  such  robbers  and  scoundrels  as 
some  of  the  aristocratic  members  of  those  clubs.    When, 
in  1750,  the  people  got  frightened  about  an  earthquake 
in  London,  predicted  to  happen  in  that  year,  '  Lady 
Catherine    Pelham,1   Walpole    tells    us,    '  Lady   James 
Arundel  1,  and    Lord    and    Lady   Gal  way  ...  go   this 


GAMBLING-CLUBS  AND  HIGH  PLAY      11 

evening  to  an  inn  ten  miles  out  of  town,  where  they  are 
going  to  play  at  brag  till  five  in  the  morning,  and  then 
come  back,  I  suppose,  to  look  for  the  bones  of  their 
husbands  and  families  under  the  rubbish.1  When  the 
rulers  of  the  nation  on  such  an  occasion,  or  any  other 
occasion  of  public  terror,  possibly  caused  by  their  own 
mismanagement  of  public  affairs,  hypocritically  and 
most  impertinently  ordered  a  day  of  fasting  and  humilia- 
tion, the  gambling-houses  used  to  be  filled  with  officials 
and  members  of  Parliament,  who  thus  had  a  day  off. 

There  was  one  famous  gambling-house  we  find  we 
have  not  yet  mentioned,  viz.,  Shaver's  Hall,  which 
occupied  the  whole  of  the  southern  side  of  Coventry 
Street,  from  the  Haymarket  to  Hedge  Lane  (now 
Oxenden  Street),  and  derived  its  name  from  the  barber 
of  Lord  Pembroke,  who  built  it  out  of  his  earnings. 
Attached  to  it  was  a  bowling-green,  which  sloped  down 
to  the  south.  The  place  was  built  about  the  year  1650, 
and  the  tennis-court  belonging  to  it  till  recently  might 
still  be  seen  in  St.  James's  Street. 


II. 

WITTY  WOMEN  AND  PRETTY  WOMEN. 

CERTAIN  waves  of  sentiment  or  action,  or  both 
combined,  have  at  various  times  passed  over  the 
face  of  European  society.  A  thousand  years  ago 
the  Old  Continent  went  madly  crusading  to  snatch  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  from  the  grasp  of  the  pagan  Sultan, 
who,  sick  man  as  he  is,  still  holds  it.  The  movement 
had  certain  advantages :  it  cleared  Europe  of  a  good 
deal  of  ruffianism,  which  never  came  back,  as  it  perished 
on  the  journey  to  Jerusalem,  or  very  properly  was  killed 
off  by  the  justly  incensed  Turks,  who  could  not  under- 
stand by  what  right  these  hordes  of  robbers  invaded 
their  country.  Then  another  phase  of  society  madness 
arose.  Some  maniac,  clad  in  armour,  on  a  horse  similarly 
accoutred,  would  appear,  and  challenge  everyone  to 
admit  that  the  Lady  Gwendolyne  Mousetrap,  whom  he 
kept  company  with,  and  took  to  the  tea-gardens  on 
Sundays,  was  the  most  peerless  damosel,  and  that  whoso 
doubted  it,  would  not  get  off  by  paying  a  dollar,  but 
would  have  to  fight  it  out  with  him.  Then  another 
mailed  and  belted  chap  would  jump  up,  and  maintain 
that  the  Countess  of  Rabbit-Warren — who  was  the  girl 


WITTY  WOMEN  AND  PRETTY  WOMEN    13 

he  was  just  then  booming — was  the  finest  woman  going, 
and    that  that    slut  Gwendolyne   Mousetrap    was   no 
better  than  she  should  be.     Of  course,  as  soon  as  the 
King  and  Court  heard  of  the  shindy  between  the  two 
knights  a  day  was  appointed  when  they  should  fight  it 
out,  the  combatants  being  enclosed  in  a  kind  of  rat-pit, 
officially  called  lists,  whilst  the  King,  his  courtiers  and 
their  gentle  ladies  looked  at  the  sport ;  and  if  one  of 
the  knights  was  killed,  or  perhaps  both  were  killed,  or 
at  least  maimed  for  life,  the  Lady  Gwendolyne  and  the 
Countess  of  Rabbit- Warren,  who,  of  course,  both  assisted 
at  the  spectacle,  received   the  congratulations  of  the 
Court.     Sometimes  one  of  the  knights  would  funk,  and 
not  come  up  to  the  scratch  ;  then  he  was  declared  a 
lame  duck,  and  the  lady  whom  he  had  left  in  the  lurch 
and  made  a  laughing-stock  of  would  erase  his  name 
from  her  tablets,  and  shy  the  trumpery  proofs  of  devo- 
tion he  had  given  her,  a  worn-out  scarf  or  Brummagem 
aigrette,  out  of  an  upper  window.     This  was  called  the 
age  of  chivalry.     Then  a  totally  different  eruption  of 
the  fighting  mania — which  is,  after  all,  the  universal 
principle   in   human   action — took    place.     A    vagrant 
scholasticus  would   appear  in   a  University  town,  and 
announce  that  he  was  ready  to  hold  a  disputation  with 
any  professor,  Doctor  of  Divinity,  or  Master  of  Arts, 
on  any  mortal  subject,  the  more  subtle,  and  the  more 
incomprehensible,  and  the  more   mystical,  the  better. 
Thus,  one   such  scholasticus  got  into  the  rostrum  at 
Tubingen,    and    addressed  his   audience    thus :    '  I  am 
about  to  propound  three  theses  :  the  answer  to  the  first 
is  known  to  myself  only,  and  not  to  you  ;  to  the  second, 
the  answer  is  known  neither  to  you  nor  to  me ;  to  the 


14  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

third,  the  answer  is  known  to  you  only.'  This  was  a 
promising  programme,  and,  indeed,  proved  highly  edify- 
ing. '  Now,  the  first  question,'  resumed  the  scholasticus, 
'  is  this  :  Have  I  got  any  breeches  on  ?  You  don't 
know,  but  I  do  ;  I  have  not.  The  second  question,  the 
answer  to  which  is  known  neither  to  you  nor  to  me,  is : 
Shall  I  find  in  this  town  any  draper  willing  to  advance 
on  credit  stuff  enough  to  make  me  a  pair?  And  the 
third  question,  the  answer  to  which  is  known  to  you 
only,  is  :  Will  any  of  you  pay  a  tailor's  wages  to  make 
me  a  pair?  And  now  that  the  argument  is  clearly 
before  you,  we  may  proceed  to  the  consideration  of  the 
parabolic  triangulation  of  the  binocular  theorem  ;'  and 
then  he  would  bewilder  them  with  a  lot  of  jaw-breaking 
words,  which  then,  as  now,  passed  for  learning.  This 
was  called  the  age  of  scholasticism.  It  was  succeeded 
by  the  Renaissance,  which,  after  a  good  boil-up  of  its 
intellectual  ingredients,  settled  down  into  a  literary 
mud,  an  Acqui-la-Bollente,  a  Nile  mud,  pleasant  to  the 
soul,  and  fertilizing  to  the  mind,  the  protoplasm  of 
diarists  and  letter-writers,  of  whom — to  mention  but 
three — Evelyn,  Pepys,  and  Horace  Walpole  were  pro- 
minent patterns  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies. 

It  is  with  the  latter,  Horace  Walpole,  of  Strawberry 
Hill,  we  are  chiefly  concerned.  Horace  Walpole,  after 
enlarging  a  cottage  into  a  Gothic  castle,  with  lath  and 
plaster,  and  rough-cast  walls,  and  wooden  pinnacles, 
filled  it  with  literary  and  artistic  treasures.  But  he 
also  gathered  around  him  a  select  social  circle,  which 
included  Gairick,  Paul  Whitehead,  General  Conway, 
George  Sehvyn,  Richard   Bentley,  the  poet  Gray,  Sir 


WITTY  WOMEN  AND  PRETTY  WOMEN    15 

Horace  Mann,  and  Lords  Edgcumbe  and  Strafford. 
And  of  ladies  there  was  no  lack ;  there  were  Mrs.  Prit- 
chard,  Kitty  Give,  Lady  Suffolk,  the  Misses  Berry,  and 
— would  you  believe  it  ? — Hannah  More  !  It  was  the 
age  for  chronicling  small-beer  and  home-made  wine, 
gossip,  scandal,  and  frivolity ;  and  Horace  Walpole 
enjoyed  existence  as  a  cynical  Seladon  or  platonic  Blue- 
beard amidst  this  bevy  of  lively,  gay-minded,  frolicsome 
beauties,  young  and  old.  Happily,  or  unhappily,  for 
him,  he  did  not  become  acquainted  with  the  Misses 
Berry  before  1788,  when  he  was  seventy-one  years  of 
age.  He  took  the  most  extraordinary  liking  to  them, 
and  was  never  content  except  when  they  were  with  him, 
or  corresponding  with  him.  When  they  went  to  Italy, 
he  wrote  to  them  regularly  once  a  week,  and  on  their 
return  he  installed  them  at  Little  Strawberry  Hill,  a 
house  close  to  his  own,  so  that  he  might  daily  enjoy 
their  society.  He  appointed  them  his  literary  executors, 
with  the  charge  of  collecting  and  publishing  his  writings, 
which  was  done  under  the  superintendence  of  Mr.  Berry, 
their  father,  who  was  a  Yorkshire  gentleman.  When 
Walpole  had  succeeded  to  the  Earldom  of  Orford  he 
made  Mary,  the  elder  of  the  two  sisters,  an  offer  of  his 
hand.  Both  sisters  survived  him  upwards  of  sixty  years. 
Little  Strawberry  Hill,  which  we  just  mentioned  as 
the  residence  of  the  Misses  Berry,  had,  before  their 
coming  to  live  in  it,  been  occupied  by  Kitty  Give,  the 
famous  actress.  Born  in  1711,  she  made  her  first 
appearance  on  the  stage  of  Drury  Lane,  and  in  1732 
she  married  a  brother  of  Lord  Give,  but  the  union 
proved  unhappy,  and  was  soon  dissolved.  She  quitted 
the  stage  in  1769,  leaving  a  splendid  reputation  as  an 


16  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

actress  and  as  a  woman  behind  her,  and  retired  to  Little 
Strawberry  Hill,  where  she  lived  in  ease,  surrounded 
by  friends  and  respected  by  the  world.  Horace  Walpole 
was  a  constant  visitor  at  her  house,  as  were  many  other 
persons  of  rank  and  eminence.  It  was  said  of  her  that 
no  man  could  be  grave  when  Kitty  chose  to  be  merry. 
But  she  must  have  been  a  woman  of  some  spirit,  too, 
for  when  it  was  proposed  to  stop  up  a  footpath  in  her 
neighbourhood  she  placed  herself  at  the  head  of  the 
opponents,  and  defeated  the  project.  She  died  suddenly 
in  1785,  and  Walpole  placed  an  urn  in  the  grounds  to 
her  memory,  with  the  inscription  : 

'  Here  lived  the  laughter-loving  dame ; 
A  matchless  actress,  Clive  her  name. 
The  comic  Muse  with  her  retired, 
And  shed  a  tear  when  she  expired.' 

The  Mrs.  Pritchard  mentioned  above  was  also  an  actress, 
of  great  and  well-deserved  fame.  She  lived  at  an  origin- 
ally small  house,  called  "  Ragman's  Castle,"  which  she 
much  improved  and  enlarged.  It  had,  after  her,  various 
occupants,  and  was  finally  taken  down  by  Lord  Kil- 
morey  during  his  occupancy  of  Orleans  House,  near 
which  it  stood. 

Another  of  the  constant  visitors  at  Strawberry  Hill 
was  Lady  Suffolk,  Pope's  '  Chloe."1  She  was  married  to 
the  Hon.  Charles  Howard,  from  whom  she  separated 
when  she  became  the  mistress  of  the  Prince,  afterwards 
George  II.,  who,  as  Prince,  allowed  her  i?2,000  a  year, 
and  as  King  d£3,200  a  year,  besides  several  sums  at 
various  times.  He  gave  her  ^12,000  towards  Marble 
Hill,  the  mansion  still  facing  the  Thames,  which  became 


WITTY  WOMEN  AND  PRETTY  WOMEN    17 

her  residence.  Her  husband  lived  long  enough  to 
become  Earl  of  Suffolk,  and  dying,  left  her  free  to 
marry,  when  she  was  forty-five,  the  Hon.  George 
Berkeley,  who  died  eleven  years  after.  She  survived 
him  twenty-one  years,  and  supplied  her  neighbour, 
Horace  Walpole,  with  Court  anecdotes  and  scandal 
during  all  that  period.  Walpole  calls  her  remarkably 
'genteel-' — a  favourite  expression  of  his,  though  now 
so  vulgar  ! — and,  in  spite  of  her  antecedents,  she  was 
courted  by  the  highest  in  the  land.  Such  were  the 
morals  of  those  days.  According  to  Horace  Walpole, 
her  mental  qualifications  were  not  of  a  high  order,  but 
she  was  gentle  and  engaging  in  her  manners,  and  she 
was  a  gossip  with  a  good  memory — and  that  answered 
her  host's  purpose  admirably.  Pope  also  made  great 
use  of  her  reminiscences. 

Like  Dr.  Johnson,  Horace  Walpole  liked  to  fill  his 
house  with  a  lot  of  female  devotees  ;  but  whilst  Johnson 
seemed  to  prefer  a  parcel  of  disagreeable,  ugly,  and 
cantankerous  women,  always  quarrelling  among  them- 
selves and  with  everybody  else,  Walpole  liked  his  women 
to  be  young  and  fair,  full  of  life  and  mirth.  By  what 
strange  circumstance  was  the  cynical  and  sarcastic 
Walpole  led  into  a  sort  of  friendship  with  the  mild  and 
pietistic  Mrs.  Hannah  More  ?  It  was  in  1784  that 
this  queer  friendship  began.  It  appears  that  about 
that  date  Hannah  More  had  discovered  at  Bristol  a 
milk  woman  who  wrote  verses,  just  such  verses  as  Hannah 
More  and  Walpole — neither  of  whom  had  an  idea  of 
poetry  —  would  consider  wonderful.  A  subscription 
must  be  started  for  the  benefit  of  the  milkwoman,  and 
Hannah  More  applied  to  Horace  Walpole,  who  set  up 

l2 


18  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

for  a  Maecenas,  though  he  always  expressed  the  utmost 
contempt  for  authors,  for  a  contribution.  Of  course, 
Hannah  More  did  not  make  this  application  without  a 
dose  of  fulsome  compliment  to  Horace  Walpole's  genius, 
and  he  went  into  the  trap,  subscribed,  and  expressed  his 
admiration  of  the  milkwomans  poetry.  The  woman's 
name  was  Yearsley  ;  she  was  quite  ready  to  receive  the 
money,  but,  having  evidently  a  very  high  opinion  of  her 
own  doggerel,  she  refused  to  listen  to  the  literary  advice 
given  to  her  by  Horace  Walpole  and  her  patroness,  with 
whom  she  very  soon  quarrelled.  Walpole  condoled  with 
Hannah  thus  :  '  You  are  not  only  benevolence  itself, 
but,  with  fifty  times  the  genius  of  Dame  Yearsley,  you 
are  void  of  vanity.  How  strange  that  vanity  should 
expel  gratitude  !  Does  not  the  wretched  woman  owe 
her  fame  to  you  ?  .  .  .  Dame  Yearsley  reminds  me  of 
the  troubadours,  those  vagrants  whom  I  used  to  admire 
till  I  knew  their  history,  and  who  used  to  pour  out 
trumpery  verses,  and  flatter  or  abuse,  accordingly  as  they 
were  housed  and  clothed,  or  dismissed  to  the  next  parish. 
Yet  you  did  not  set  this  person  in  the  stocks,  after  pro- 
curing an  annuity  for  her.1  By  this  letter  we  see  what 
were  Horace  Walpole's  ideas  of  patronage  :  flattery  and 
a  pittance,  independence  and  the  stocks.  Walpole  was 
open  to  flattery.  Dr.  Johnson  was  not — at  least,  not 
from  a  woman  ;  he  despised  the  sex  too  much  to  care 
for  their  praise.  When  Hannah  More  laid  it  on  very 
thick  in  his  case,  he  fiercely  turned  round  on  her  and 
said :  '  Madam,  before  you  flatter  a  man  so  grossly  to 
his  face,  you  should  consider  whether  or  not  your  flattery 
is  worth  his  having."1  And,  with  all  his  admiration  for 
her  character,  Walpole  could  not  help  sneering  at  what 


WITTY  WOMEN  AND  PRETTY  WOMEN   19 

he  called  her  saintliness,  and  venting  his  sarcasm  on  her 
silly  '  Coelebs  in  Search  of  a  Wife,"  the  absurdity  of  which 
has,  indeed,  been  surpassed  by  a  few  modern  novels  of 
the  same  tendency.  The  last  we  hear  of  their  friendship 
is  that  he  made  her  a  present  of  a  Bible — fancy  the 
satyr's  leer  with  which  he  must  have  presented  it  to  her ! 
She  paid  him  out  for  the  implied  irony  by  wishing  that 
he  would  read  it. 

Among  the  ladies  who  were  neighbours  of  Horace 
Walpole,  we  must  not  omit  Lady  Mary  Wortley 
Montagu,  who  lived  for  some  years  in  a  house  on  the 
south  side  of  the  road  leading  to  Twickenham  Common. 
She  may  justly  be  considered  as  one  of  the  witty,  if  not 
of  the  pretty,  women  of  Walpole's  time.  He  detested 
her.  Probably  he  was  somewhat  jealous  of  her,  for  her 
letters  from  Constantinople  on  Turkish  life  and  society 
earned  her  the  sobriquet  of  the  'Female  Horace  Walpole.1 
He  writes  of  her  thus  whilst  she  was  living  at  Florence  : 
1  She  is  laughed  at  by  the  whole  town.  Her  dress,  her 
avarice,  and  her  impudence  must  amaze  anyone.  .  .  . 
She  wears  a  foul  mob,  that  does  not  cover  her  greasy 
black  locks,  that  hang  loose,  never  combed  or  curled ; 
an  old  mazarine  blue  wrapper,  that  gapes  open  and 
discovers  a  canvas  petticoat.  Her  face  swelled  violently 
on  one  side,  and  partly  covered  with  white  paint,  which 
for  cheapness  she  has  bought  so  coarse  that  you  would 
not  use  it  to  wash  a  chimney.1  In  another  letter  he 
describes  her  dress  as  consisting  of  '  a  groundwork  of 
dirt,  with  an  embroidery  of  filthiness.1  When  he  wrote 
of  her  then,  she  was  about  fifty  years  of  age,  and  seems 
to  have  retained  none  of  the  beauty  which  distinguished 
her  in  her  earlier  years.     She  was  not  only  coarse  in 

2—2 


20  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

looks,   but   in    her  speech   and   writings,   which    shock 
modern   fastidiousness.     She   was   not   the   woman   to 
please  Horace  Walpole,  who,  even  when  in  the  seventies, 
liked  nothing  better  than  acting  as  squire  or  cicerone 
to  fine  ladies.     Lady  Mary  was  not  one  of  them.     She 
was,  in  fact,  what  we  now  should  call  a  regular  Bohemian ; 
and  was  it  to  be  wondered  at?     She  had  been  intro- 
duced into  that  sort  of  life  when  she  was  a  girl  only 
eight   years  old   by  her  own   father,   Evelyn,  Earl  of 
Kingston.    He  was  a  member  of  the  Kitcat  Club,  whose 
chief  occupation  was  the  proposing  and  toasting  the 
beauties  of  the  day.     One  evening  the  Earl  took  it  into 
his  head  to  nominate  his  daughter.     She  was  sent  for  in 
a  chaise,  and  introduced  to  the  company  in  dirty  Shire 
Lane  in  a  grimy  chamber,  reeking  with  foul  culinary 
smells  and  stale  tobacco-smoke,  and  elected  by  acclama- 
tion.    The  gentlemen  drank  the  little  lady's  health  up- 
standing ;  and  feasting  her  with  sweets,  and  passing  her 
round  with  kisses,  at  once  inscribed  her  name  with  a 
diamond   on   a   drinking  -  glass.     'Pleasure,1  she   says, 
'  was  too  poor  a  word  to  express  my  sensations.     They 
amounted  to  ecstasy.    Never  again  throughout  my  whole 
life  did  I  pass  so  happy  an  evening.''     Of  course,  the 
child  could  not  perceive  the  hideousness  of  the  whole 
proceeding   and   its   surroundings  :    if  the  kisses  were 
seasoned  with  droppings  of  snuff  from  the  noses  above, 
which  otherwise  were  not  always  very  clean — even  at  the 
beginning  of  this  century  Lord  Kenyon,  Chief  Justice 
of  the  King's  Bench,  was  an  utter  stranger  to  the  luxury 
of  a  pocket-handkerchief,  and  had  no  delicacy  about 
avowing  it — it  did  not  detract  from  the  sweetness  of 
the  bon-bons  with  which  she  was  regaled. 


WITTY  WOMEN  AND  PRETTY  WOMEN   21 

The  founder  of  the  Blue-Stocking  Club,  Mrs.  Montagu, 
nee  Elizabeth  Robinson,  was  another  of  Walpole's  witty 
and  handsome  lady  friends.  As  a  girl  she  was  lively, 
full  of  fun,  yet  fond  of  study.  In  1742  she  was  married 
to  Edward  Montagu,  M.P.,  a  coal-owner  of  great  wealth. 
As  a  girl  the  Duchess  of  Portland  had  called  her  '  La 
Petite  Fidget1;  but  after  her  marriage  she  became  more 
sedate,  and  a  great  power  in  the  literary  world.  She 
established  the  Blue-Stocking  Club,  of  which  herself, 
Mrs.  Vesey,  Miss  Boscawen,  Mrs.  Carter,  Lord  Lyttelton, 
Mr.  Pulteney,  Mr.  Stillingfleet,  and  Horace  Walpole 
were  the  first  members.  The  name  originally  came  from 
Venice,  where,  in  1400,  the  Academical  Society  (Idle  calze 
had  been  established,  whence  the  name  was  transferred 
to  similar  associations  in  France,  there  called  Bus  Bleus, 
and  from  the  latter  country  it  was  introduced  into 
England.  Mrs.  Montagu,  having  been  left  a  widow 
with  P7,000  a  year,  built  herself  a  mansion,  standing 
in  a  large  garden  at  the  north-west  corner  of  Portman 
Square,  and  there  the  Blue-Stocking  Club  continued  to 
hold  its  meetings  for  a  number  of  years,  including  all 
the  persons  of  her  time  who  were  celebrated  in  art, 
science,  or  literature,  among  whom  may  be  mentioned 
Boswell  and  Johnson,  the  latter  of  whom,  in  the  presence 
of  ladies,  somewhat  modified  his  bearish  habits.  Mrs. 
Montagu  died  in  1800,  and  the  house  she  had  built 
eventually  became  the  town  residence  of  Viscount 
Portman. 

Of  course,  Horace  Walpole  was  acquainted  with  the 
Misses  Gunning — '  those  goddesses,'  as  Mary  Montagu 
styled  them.  They  were  nieces  of  the  first  Earl  of  Mayo, 
and  so  got  a  ready  introduction  into  London  society, 


22  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

which  literally  went  raving  mad  about  them.  Horace 
Walpole  tells  us  that  even  the  '  great  unwashed '  followed 
them  in  crowds  whenever  they  appeared  in  public  :  there 
must  have  been  an  extraordinary  appreciation  of  beauty 
in  the  rabble — and  what  a  rabble  of  ruffians  it  was ! — 
of  those  days.  But  London  then  was  no  bigger  than  a 
provincial  town,  compared  with  what  it  is  now.  The 
two  ladies  speedily  found  husbands :  the  Duke  of 
Hamilton  married  Elizabeth,  the  younger,  after  an 
evening  spent  in  the  society  of  the  sisters  and  their 
mother  at  Bedford  House,  and  was  in  such  a  hurry 
about  it  that  he  would  wait  for  neither  licence  nor  ring, 
and,  after  with  some  difficulty  satisfying  the  scruples  of 
the  parson  called  upon  to  celebrate  the  extempore  cere- 
mony, they  were  married  with  the  ring  of  a  bed-curtain, 
at  half  an  hour  after  twelve  at  night,  at  Mayfair  Chapel. 
Three  weeks  afterwards  Lord  Coventry  married  her 
sister,  Maria.  The  Duke  of  Hamilton  dying  in  1758, 
six  years  after  the  strange  nuptials  in  Mayfair  Chapel, 
the  widow  in  the  following  year  married  Jack  Campbell, 
afterwards  Duke  of  Argyll.  Lady  Coventry  did  not 
wear  her  coronet  long ;  in  1760  she  died,  it  is  said,  in 
consequence  of  her  excessive  use  of  white  paint.  Her 
sister,  '  twice  duchessed/  survived  her  many  years. 

We  have  far  from  exhausted  the  list  of  the  ladies 
distinguished  for  wit  and  beauty  who  figure  in  Horace 
Walpole's  '  Letters,'  but  our  space  is  exhausted.  We 
cannot,  however,  conclude  without  a  few  words  on  the 
'  Letters '  in  question.  Their  chief  value  consists  in 
the  lively  descriptions  of  public  events;  not  as  dry  and 
cold  history  records  them,  but  by  letting  us  have  peeps 
behind  the  scenes,  so  as  to  see  the  wire-pullers,  the 


WITTY  WOMEN  AND  PRETTY  WOMEN   23 

secret  machinery,  which  set  in  motion  the  actors  on  the 
political  and  social  stage.  They  show  us  lords  and  ladies 
in  their  negliges,  and  how  the  conceit  of  a  hairdresser, 
or  the  caprice  of  a  lady's-maid,  may  make  or  mar  the 
destinies  of  a  nation.  This  copious  letter-writing  forms 
indeed  an  era  in  our  literary  history  which  will  never 
return  or  be  renewed  ;  the  prying  reporter  and  the  irre- 
pressible interviewer  now  supply  all  the  world  with  what 
the  letter-writer  communicated  to  a  few  friends  only. 
This  present  age  may  be  called  the  Age  of  Reminiscences: 
everybody  is  writing  his ;  of  making  books  there  is  no 
end  ! 


A 


III. 

OLD  LONDON  COFFEE-HOUSES. 

COMPARATIVELY  small  room,  considering  it 
was  one  for  public  use,  with  clingy  walls,  a  grimy 
ceiling,  a  sanded  floor,  boxes  with  upright  backs 
and  narrow  seats,  wooden  chairs,  liquor-stained  tables, 
lighted  up  in  the  evening  with  smoky  lamps  or  gutter- 
ing candles,  the  whole  room  reeking  with  tobacco  like 
a  guard-room — such  was  the  coffee-house  of  the  later 
Stuart  and  the  whole  Georgian  periods.  Its  distinc- 
tive article  of  furniture  was  spittoons.  In  such  dens 
did  the  noblemen,  in  flowing  wigs  and  embroidered 
coats,  parsons  in  cassocks  and  bands,  physicians  in 
sable  suits  and  tremendous  perukes,  together  with 
broken-down  gamesters,  swindlers,  country  yokels,  and 
out-at-elbows  literary  and  theatrical  adventurers,  meet, 
not  only  for  pleasure,  but  for  business  too.  Dr.  Rad- 
cliffe,  who  in  1685  had  the  largest  practice  in  London, 
was  daily  to  be  seen  at  Garraway's,  now  demolished, 
its  site  being  included  in  Martin's  bank ;  and  another 
favourite  resort  of  doctors  hereby  was  Batson's,  where, 
as  the  '  Connoisseur '  says,  '  the  dispensers  of  life  and 
death   flock   together,  like  birds  of  prey  watching  for 


OLD  LONDON  COFFEE-HOUSES  25 

carcases.  I  never  enter  this  place  but  it  serves  as  a 
memento  mor'i  to  me.  .  .  .  Batson's  has  been  reckoned 
the  seat  of  solemn  stupidity.1 

Coffee-houses,  indeed,  had  their  distinct  sets  of  cus- 
tomers. St.  Paul's,  for  instance,  was  patronized  by  the 
clergy,  both  by  those  with  fat  livings  and  by  '  battered 
crapes,1  who  plied  there  for  an  occasional  burial  or 
sermon.  Dick's  was  frequented  by  members  of  the 
Temple,  with  whom,  in  1737,  Mrs.  Yarrow  and  her 
daughter,  who  kept  the  house,  were  great  favourites ; 
wherefore,  when  the  Rev.  James  Miller  brought  out  a 
comedy,  called  '  The  Coffee-House,1  in  which  the  ladies 
were  thought  to  be  indicated — the  engraver  having  un- 
fortunately fixed  upon  Dick's  Coffee  -  House  as  the 
frontispiece  scene  —  the  Templars  attended  the  first 
representation,  and  hissed  the  piece  off  the  boards. 
Button's,  in  Covent  Garden,  was  the  resort  of  Addison 
and  Steele,  of  Pope  and  Swift,  of  Savage  and  Davenant 
— in  fact,  of  the  wits  of  the  time.  At  this  house  was 
the  lion's  head  through  whose  mouth  letters  were 
dropped  for  the  Tailers  and  Spectators.  The  head 
was  afterwards  transferred  to  the  Bedford  Coffee-House, 
under  the  Piazza,  and  eventually,  in  1827,  was  pur- 
chased by  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  and  is  now  at  Woburn 
Abbey.  Bedford's  was  the  successor  of  Button's,  and  is 
described  in  the  'Memoirs'  of  it  as  having  been  sig- 
nalized for  many  years  as  '  the  emporium  of  wit,  the 
seat  of  criticism,  and  the  standard  of  taste.'  In  1659 
was  founded  the  Rota  Club  by  James  Charrington,  a 
political  writer,  and  its  members  met  at  Miles's,  in  Old 
Palace  Yard.  Pepys  attended  one  of  its  meetings  on 
January  10,  1659-60.      It   was   a   kind   of  debating- 


26  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

society  for  the  dissemination  of  Republican  opinions. 
Coffee-houses,  indeed,  at  that  period  became  important 
political  institutions.  Nothing  resembling  the  modern 
newspaper  then  existed ;  in  consequence,  these  houses 
were  the  chief  organs  through  which  the  public  opinion 
vented  itself,  and  so  threatening  to  the  Court  did,  in 
course  of  time,  their  influence  appear,  that  on  Decem- 
ber 29,  1675,  the  King  and  his  Cabal  Ministry  issued  a 
proclamation  for  shutting  up  and  suppressing  all  coffee- 
houses, '  because  in  such  houses,  and  by  occasion  of  the 
meeting  of  disaffected  persons  in  them,  diverse  false, 
malicious,  and  scandalous  reports  were  devised  and 
spread  abroad,  to  the  defamation  of  his  Majesty's 
Government,  and  to  the  disturbance  of  the  quiet  and 
peace  of  the  realm.'  The  opinions  of  the  judges  were 
taken  on  this  ridiculous  edict,  and  they  sapiently 
reported  'that  retailing  coffee  might  be  an  innocent 
trade,  but  as  it  was  used  to  nourish  sedition,  spread 
lies,  and  scandalize  great  men,  it  might  also  be  a 
common  nuisance.1  On  a  petition  of  the  merchants 
and  retailers  of  coffee  and  tea,  permission  was  granted 
to  keep  open  the  coffee-houses  until  June  24  next, 
under  an  admonition  that  '  the  masters  of  them  should 
prevent  all  scandalous  papers,  books,  and  libels  from 
being  read  in  them.*'  This,  of  course,  was  a  huge  joke 
on  the  part  of  the  Cabal,  who  thus  constituted  the  con- 
coctors  and  dispensers  of  '  dishes , — to  use  the  hideous 
word  then  employed — of  coffee  and  tea  censors  and 
licensers  of  books,  and  judges  of  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  political  opinions  and  intelligence.  After  that  no 
more  was  heard  of  the  matter,  and  the  coffee-houses 
remained  political  debating  clubs,  as  is  proved  by  the 


OLD  LONDON  COFFEE-HOUSES  27 

remarks  on  them  in  the  Spectator  and  similar  publica- 
tions.    See,  for  instance,  Nos.  403,  476,  481,  521,  etc. 

The  first  London  coffee-house  was  set  up  by  one 
Bowman,  coachman  to  Mr.  Hodges,  a  Turkey  mer- 
chant. Others  say  that  Mr.  Edwards  brought  over 
with  him  a  Ragusa  servant,  Pasqua  Rosee,  who  was 
associated  with  Bowman  in  establishing  the  first  coffee- 
house in  St.  Michael's  Alley,  Cornhill.  But  the 
partners  soon  quarrelled.  They  parted,  and  Bowman 
opened  a  coffee-house  in  St.  Michael's  Churchyard, 
from  which  we  may  infer  that  the  public  took  to  the 
new  drink.  Rosee  issued  handbills  headed  :  '  The 
vertue  of  the  coffee-drink.  First  made  and  publicly 
sold  in  England  by  Pasqua  Rosee,  at  the  sign  of  his 
own  head."'  The  original  of  one  of  them  is  preserved 
in  the  British  Museum.  It  is  generally  said  that  the 
second  coffee-house  in  London  was  that  established  as 
the  Rainbow  (now  a  tavern)  in  Fleet  Street,  by  one 
Farr,  a  barber,  in  the  year  1657.  In  the  Mercurius 
Politicus  of  September  30,  1658,  an  advertisement  ap- 
peared, setting  forth  the  virtues  of  the  then  equally 
new  beverage,  namely,  tcha,  or  tay,  or  tee,  which  was 
sold  at  the  Sultaness  Head  Cophee-house,  in  Sweeting's 
Rents,  by  the  Royal  Exchange.  We  thus  see  that  as 
early  as  1658  there  were  already  three  coffee-houses  in 
London.  But  coffee  met  with  opponents.  The 
vintners  called  it  '  sooty  drink ';  lampooners  said  it 
undermined  virile  power,  and  that  to  drink  it  was  to 
ape  the  Turks  and  insult  one's  canary  -  drinking 
ancestors.  Farr,  the  founder  of  the  Rainbow,  already 
mentioned,  was  indicted  for  '  making  and  selling  a  sort 
of    liquor,    called    coffee,    whereby    in    making    it    he 


28  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

annoyed  his  neighbours  by  evil  smells,  and  for  keeping 
of  fire  for  the  most  part  night  and  day,  to  the  great 
danger  and  affrightment  of  his  neighbours.1  But  Fan- 
stood  his  ground,  and  in  time  became  a  person  of 
importance  in  the  parish,  and  coffee-houses  multiplied. 
Cornhill  and  its  purlieus  were  full  of  them.  There 
were  the  Great  Turk,  Sword  Blade,  Rainbow,  Garra- 
way,  Jerusalem,  Tom's,  and  Weston's  Coffee-Houses  in 
Exchange  Alley  alone ;  in  St.  Michael's  Alley,  close  by, 
there  were,  besides  Rosee's,  Williams's,  and  other  coffee- 
houses. They  also,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  estab- 
lished further  west  than  the  City,  and  they  were  also, 
as  already  mentioned,  places  of  rendezvous,  where 
appointments  were  made,  where  lawyers  met  clients, 
and  doctors  patients,  merchants  their  customers,  clerks 
their  masters,  where  farce  -  writers,  journalists,  poli- 
ticians, and  literary  hacks  went  to  pick  up  ideas,  and, 
as  it  was  then  called,  watch,  and  if  they  could,  catch 
the  humours  of  the  town.  The  Spectator,  in  his  very 
first  number,  acknowledges  his  indebtedness  to  coffee- 
houses. '  There  is  no  place  of  general  resort,1  he  says, 
'  wherein  I  do  not  often  make  my  appearance.  Some- 
times I  am  seen  thrusting  my  head  into  a  round  of 
politicians  at  Will's  (on  the  north  side  of  Russell  Street, 
at  the  corner  of  Bow  Street),  and  listening  with  great 
attention  to  the  narratives  that  are  made  in  those  little 
circular  audiences.  Sometimes  I  smoke  a  pipe  at  Child's 
(St.  Paul's  Churchyard),  and  whilst  I  seem  attentive  to 
nothing  but  the  Postman,  overhear  the  conversation  of 
every  table  in  the  room.  I  appear  on  Sunday  nights  at 
St.  James's  (the  famous  Whig  coffee-house  from  the 
time  of  Queen  Anne  to  late  in  the  reign  of  George  III.), 


OLD  LONDON  COFFEE-HOUSES  29 

and  sometimes  join  the  little  committee  of  politics  in 
the  inner  room,  as  one  who  comes  there  to  hear  and 
improve.1 

There  was  another  Will's  in  Serle  Street,  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields,  which  was  also  a  haunt  of  the  Spectator,  as 
were  the  other  coffee-houses  in  that  neighbourhood.  He 
says  in  his  ninety-ninth  number :  '  I  do  not  know  that 
I  meet  in  any  of  my  walks  objects  which  move  both  my 
spleen  and  laughter  so  effectually  as  these  young  fellows 
at  the  Grecian,  Squire's,  Searle's,  and  all  other  coffee- 
houses adjacent  to  the  law,  who  rise  early  for  no  other 
purpose  but  to  publish  their  laziness.1  It  appears  that 
it  was  usual  to  resort  to  the  coffee-house  as  early  as  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  In  ' Mosers  Vestiges,1  Will's  is 
thus  referred  to  :  '  All  the  beaux  that  used  to  breakfast 
in  the  coffee-houses  and  taverns  appendant  to  the  Inns 
of  Court  struck  their  morning  strokes  in  an  elegant 
deshabille,  which  was  carelessly  confined  by  a  sash  of 
yellow,  red,  blue,  green,  etc.,  according  to  the  taste  of 
the  wearer.  The  idle  fashion  was  not  quite  worn  out 
in  1765.  We  can  remember  having  seen  some  of  these 
early  loungers  in  their  nightgowns,  caps,  etc.,  at  Will's, 
Lincoln's  Inn  Gate,  about  that  period.1 

But  the  coffee-houses  were  not  all  for  beer  and  skittles 
only.  In  the  City  especially,  the  business  of  the  City, 
and  of  England,  in  fact,  was  transacted  in  them.  Mer- 
chants and  other  business  people,  professional  men, 
brokers,  agents,  had  not  then  their  private  offices,  which 
could  only  be  reached  through  the  ante-den  of  quill- 
driving  cerberi,  vidgo  clerks.  All  the  transactions  of 
daily  life  were  then  largely  carried  on  in  public,  as  they 
are  in  all  communities,  until  they  arrive  at  a  high  state 


30  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

of  civilization.  Even  now  among  the  peasantry  of 
various  European  countries  a  man  cannot  have  his  child 
christened  without  the  ceremony  being  rendered  a  public 
spectacle.  And  so  here  in  England,  in  the  barbarous 
days  of  dingy  and  musty  coffee-houses,  they  were  con- 
sulting-rooms, offices,  counting-houses,  auction-rooms, 
and  shops.  When  the  business  was  done,  or  in  order 
to  further  it,  refreshments  of  all  sorts  were  handy,  for 
the  coffee-house  did  not  confine  itself  to  that  innocent 
beverage,  but  supplied  stronger  stuffs  ;  it  was,  in  fact, 
a  tavern,  and  many  of  the  houses,  now  openly  so  called, 
were  formerly  coffee-houses.  And  the  business  trans- 
acted at  them  was,  as  may  be  imagined,  of  the  most 
varied  character.  Agents  for  the  purchase  or  sale  of 
estates,  houses  and  other  property,  instead  of  seeing 
people  at  their  offices,  met  them  at  coffee-houses.  Thus 
one  Thomas  Rogers  advertised  that  he  gave  attendance 
daily  at  the  Rainbow  by  the  Temple ;  on  Tuesdays  at 
Tom's,  by  the  Exchange,  and  on  Thursdays  at  Will's, 
near  Whitehall,  for  transacting  agency  business.  This 
was  legitimate  enough,  but  what  of  the  sale  of  human 
flesh  at  a  coffee-house  ?  In  1708  an  advertisement 
appeared  :  '  A  black  boy,  twelve  years  of  age,  fit  to 
wait  on  a  gentleman,  to  be  disposed  of  at  Denis's  Coffee- 
house, in  Finch-lane.1  And  again,  in  1728  :  '  To  be 
sold,  a  negro  boy,  aged  eleven  years.  Enquire  at  the 
Virginia  Coffee-house,  Threadneedle-street.1  Sometimes 
the  keeper  of  the  coffee-house  sold  goods  on  account  of 
others ;  thus  from  an  advertisement  in  the  Postman, 
January,  1705,  we  learn  that  Mr.  Shipton,  at  John's 
Coffee-house,  in  Exchange  Alley,  sold  someone's  famous 
razor  strops.    The  landlords  of  those  places,  indeed,  seem 


OLD  LONDON  COFFEE-HOUSES  31 

to  have  been  very  accommodating,  especially  in  the  taking 
in  of  letters,  thus  anticipating  the  practice  of  modern 
newspaper  shops.  And  they  were  not  squeamish  as  to 
the  advertisements,  answers  to  which  were  to  be  sent  to 
them.  Thus  a  gentleman  (?)  in  the  General  Advertiser, 
October,  1745,  expressed  a  wish  to  hear  from  a  lady  he 
had  seen  in  one  of  the  left-hand  boxes  at  Drury  Lane, 
and  who  seemed  to  take  particular  notice  of  a  gentleman 
who  sat  about  the  middle  of  the  pit  (the  advertiser,  of 
course).  Letter  to  be  left  for  '  P.  M.  F.\  at  the  Portugal 
Coffee-house,  near  the  Exchange.  In  1762  a  young 
man  advertised  for  his  mother,  '  who,  in  1740,  resided 
at  a  certain  village  near  Bath,  where  she  was  delivered 
of  a  son,  whom  she  left  with  a  sum  of  money  under  the 
care  of  a  person  in  the  same  parish,  and  promised  to 
fetch  him  at  a  certain  age,  but  has  not  since  been  heard 
of  ...  if  living,  she  is  asked  to  send  a  letter  to  "  J.  E.", 
at  the  Chapter  Coffee-house,  St.  Paul's  Churchyard 
.  .  .  this  advertisement  is  published  by  the  person 
himself  [i.e.,  the  son,  born  near  Bath]  not  from  motives 
of  necessity,  or  to  court  any  assistance  (he  being  by  a 
series  of  happy  circumstances  possessed  of  an  easy  and 
independent  fortune)."  It  would,  I  fancy,  be  difficult 
at  the  present  day  to  find  anyone,  having  a  reputation 
of  any  note  to  keep  up,  willing  to  receive  answers  to 
such  an  advertisement,  which,  if  it  was  not  a  fraud, 
looked  terribly  like  an  attempt  at  one.  It  happened  in 
those  days,  as  it  occasionally  does  how,  that  the  estates 
of  gentlemen  who  married  late  in  life  passed  away  to 
remote  branches ;  the  '  young  gentleman '  had  no  doubt 
reflected  on  this  subject.  The  Turk's  Head  seems,  to 
judge    by   advertisements,    to    have    been    somewhat 


32  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

heathenish.     Here  is  another  advertisement,  also  from 
the   Morning   Post,   answers    to    which    it    took    in : 
'  Whereas  there  are  ladies,  who  have  ^2,000,  ^3,000, 
or  i?4,000  at  their  command,  and  who,  from  not  knowing 
how  to  dispose  of  the  same  to  the  greatest  advantage 
.  .   .  afford  them   but  a  scanty  maintenance  .  .  .  the 
advertiser  (who  is  a  gentleman  of  independent  fortune, 
strict  honour  and  character,  and  above  reward)  acquaints 
such  ladies  that  if  they  will  favour  him  with  their  name 
and  address  ...  he  will  put  them  into  a  method  by 
which  they   may,  without  any   trouble,  and    with   an 
absolute  certainty,  place  out  their  money,  so  as  to  pro- 
duce them  a  clear  interest  of  10  or  12  per  cent.  .  .  . 
on  good  and  safe  securities.     Direct  to  "  R.  J.,11  Esq., 
at  the  Turk's  Head  Coffee-house,  Strand.1     We  pity 
any  lady  who  fell  into  the  clutches  of  this  '  gentleman 
of  independent  fortune ' !     And  how  the  Turk's  Head 
must  have  grinned   when  answers  to  '  R.  J.1  arrived  ! 
About  the  same  time  a  gentleman  advertised  that  he 
knew  a  method,  which  reduced  it  almost  to  a  certainty 
to  win  a  considerable  sum  by  insuring  numbers  in  the 
lottery.     For  ten  guineas  the  gentleman  was  prepared 
to  '  discover  the  plan.1     Answers  to  be  sent  to  the  York 
Coffee-house,  St.  James's  Street.     Another  gentleman 
is  willing  to  lend  oC3,000  to  anyone  having  sufficient 
interest  to  procure  him  a  Government  appointment, 
worth  i?200  or  /J300  per  annum.    Answers  to  this  were 
to  be  sent  to  the  Chapter  Coffee-house,  St.  Paul's.     To 
some  of  the  coffee-houses  it  would  seem  porters  were 
attached,  ready  to  run  errands  for  customers,  or  the 
outside  public  ;  some  of  them  seem  to  have  earned  a 
reputation  of  a  certain  character.     Thus  Cynthio  {Spec- 


OLD  LONDON  COFFEE-HOUSES  33 

tator,  No.  398)  employs  Robin,  the  porter,  who  waits 
at  Will's  Coffee-house,  to  take  a  letter  to  Flavia. 
'  Robin,  you  must  know,1  we  are  told,  '  is  the  best  man 
in  the  town  for  carrying  a  billet ;  the  fellow  has  a  thin 
body,  swift  step,  demure  looks,  sufficient  sense,  and 
knows  the  town  .  .  .  the  fellow  covers  his  knowledge 
of  the  nature  of  his  messages  with  the  most  exquisite 
low  humour  imaginable ;  the  first  he  obliged  Flavia  to 
take  was  by  complaining  to  her  that  he  had  a  wife  and 
three  children,  and  if  she  did  not  take  that  letter,  which 
he  was  sure  there  was  no  harm  in,  but  rather  love,  his 
family  must  go  supperless  to  bed,  for  the  gentleman 
would  pay  him  according  as  he  did  his  business.''  He 
would  seem  to  have  been  a  mild  Leporello. 

We  find  the  cheapness  of  living  at  coifee-houses  fre- 
quently extolled  in  the  publications  and  conversations  of 
the  day  in  which  they  were  most  flourishing.  An  Irish 
painter,  whom  Johnson  knew,  declared  that  £30  a  year 
was  enough  to  enable  a  man  to  live  in  London,  without 
being  contemptible.  He  allowed  dCIO  for  clothes  and 
linen.  He  said  a  man  might  live  in  a  garret  at  Is.  6d. 
a  week ;  few  people  would  inquire  where  he  lodged,  and 
if  they  did,  it  was  easy  to  say  :  '  Sir,  you  will  find  me  at 
such  and  such  a  place , — just  as  nowadays  impecunious 
swells,  who  live  in  garrets,  manage  to  keep  up  their 
club  subscription,  and  give  as  their  address  that  of  the 
club.  By  spending  threepence  at  a  coffee-house,  John- 
son's Irish  painter  further  argued,  a  man  might  be  for 
some  hours  every  day  in  very  good  company  ;  he  might 
dine  for  sixpence,  breakfast  on  bread-and-milk  for  a 
penny,  and  do  without  supper.  On  clean-shirt  day  the 
painter  went  out  to  pay  visits,  as  Swift  also  did. 

3 


34  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

With  regard  to  the  persons  employed  in  a  coffee- 
house, we  learn  from  one  advertisement :  '  To  prevent 
all  mistakes  among  gentlemen  of  the  other  end  of  the 
town,  who  come  but  once  a  week  to  St.  James's  Coffee- 
house, either  by  miscalling  the  servants,  or  requiring 
such  things  from  them  as  are  not  properly  within  their 
respective  provinces,  this  is  to  give  notice  that  Kidney, 
keeper  of  the  book-debts  of  the  outlying  customers,  and 
observer  of  those  who  go  off  without  paying,  having 
resigned  that  employment,  is  succeeded  by  John  Sowton, 
to  whose  place  of  caterer  of  messages  and  first  coffee- 
grinder  William  Bird  is  promoted,  and  Samuel  Bardock 
comes  as  shoe-cleaner  in  the  room  of  the  said  Bird.' 

Well,  the  coffee-houses  are  things  of  the  past ;  a  few 
survive  as  taverns.  What  may  be  considered  as  their 
successors  are  called  coffee-shops,  patronized  by  working- 
men  chiefly,  but  the  '  humours '  are  of  the  tamest 
description ;  they  may  supply  statistics  to  temperance 
apostles,  but  no  literary  entertainment  to  the  public. 


IV. 

OLD  M.P.S  AND  SOME  OF  THEIR  SAYINGS. 

SOMEBODY  has  said  that,  on  making  inquiry  after 
a  man  you  have  not  seen  for  a  number  of  years, 
you  may  find  him  either  in  the  hulks  or  in  Parlia- 
ment. This  somebody  evidently  was  a  bit  of  a  philo- 
sopher, who  knew  how  to  put  the  possibilities  of  human 
life  in  a  nutshell.  He  understood  that  the  same  cause 
may  have  totally  different  effects  :  the  same  heat  which 
softens  lead  hardens  clay,  the  same  abilities  which  may 
send  a  man  to  penal  servitude  may  elevate  him  to  the 
dignity  of  an  M.P.  And  thus  it  happened  that  some 
queer  people  got  into  Parliament,  which,  no  doubt,  was 
the  fact  which  gave  rise  to  somebody's  wise  saw,  and 
which  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  in  the  good  old  days, 
before  Reform  and  Corrupt  Practices  Prevention  Acts, 
and  similar  humbugging  interferences  with  the  liberty 
of  the  subject,  were  dreamt  of.  In  those  good  old  days 
of  rotten  and  pocket  boroughs  men  had  Parliamentary 
honours  thrust  upon  them  nolcntes  volentes.  Thus,  a 
noble  lord,  who  owned  several  such  boroughs,  was  asked 
by  the  returning  officer  whom  he  meant  to  nominate. 
Having  no  eligible  candidate  at  hand,  he  named  a  waiter 

3—2 


36  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

at  White's  Club,  one  Robert  Mackreth ;  but,  as  he  did 
not  happen  to  be  sure  of  the  Christian  name  of  his 
nominee,  the  election  was  declared  to  be  void.  Nothing 
daunted,  his  lordship  persisted  in  his  nomination.  A 
fresh  election  was  therefore  held,  when,  the  name  of  the 
waiter  having  been  ascertained,  he  was  returned  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  Robert  Mackreth,  Esq.,  took  his 
seat  in  St.  Stephen's.  This  was  possible  in  the  days  of 
Eldon  and  Perceval ;  in  fact,  in  the  early  part  of  this 
century,  306  members,  more  than  half  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  were  returned  by  160  persons,  and  in  1830  it 
was  admitted  that,  though  there  were  men  of  ability  in 
the  Cabinet,  such  as  Brougham,  Lansdowne,  Melbourne, 
Palmerston,  the  members  of  the  House  were  'persons 
of  very  narrow  capacities,  of  small  reputation  for  talent, 
and  without  influence  with  the  people."1 

However,  the  Reform  Bill  was  passed  in  1832,  and 
pocket  boroughs  were  abolished.  There  had  been  thirty- 
seven  places  returning  members  with  constituencies  not 
exceeding  fifty  electors,  and  fourteen  of  those  places 
had  not  more  than  twenty  electors.  There  were  three 
boroughs  each  containing  only  one  =£?10  householder. 
One  of  the  boroughs  only  paid  in  assessed  taxes  ^3  9s., 
another  £16  8s.  9d.,  a  third  =£40  17s.  Id.  But,  luckily 
for  the  public,  the  Reform  Bill  did  not  abolish  the  fun 
of  the  flags,  music,  beer,  and  jokes  of  elections.  The 
delicate  attentions  which  could  still  be  paid  to  candidates 
remained  in  full  swing.  Thus,  we  remember  an  election 
in  the  Isle  of  Wight :  The  father  of  one  of  the  candidates 
for  Parliamentary  distinction,  in  the  Conservative  in- 
terest, had,  in  his  youthful  days,  married  a  lady  who, 
in  a  peripatetic  manner,  dealt  in  oysters.     His  rival,  a 


OLD  M.P.S  AND  SOME  OF  THEIR  SAYINGS     37 

Radical,  paid  him  the  compliment  of  sending  him  daily 
barrows  and  truck-loads  of  oyster-shells,  which  were, 
with  his  kind  regards,  discharged  in  front  of  the  hotel 
where  his  committee  was  established,  and  from  whose 
windows  he  addressed  the  electors.    It  was  splendid  fun, 
and  calculated  to  impress  the  intelligent  foreigner.     It 
showed  how  highly  the  British  public  appreciated  their 
elective  franchise.    Pleasantries  had,  indeed,  always  been 
the  rule  at  election-time.    When  Fox,  in  1802,  canvassed 
Westminster,  he  asked  a  shopkeeper  on  the  opposite  side 
for  his  vote  and  interest,  when  the  latter  produced  a 
halter,  and  said  that  was  all  he  could  give  him.     Fox 
thanked  him,  but  said  he  could  not  think  of  depriving 
him  of  it,  as  no  doubt  it  was  a  family  relic.     At  an 
election  at  Norwich  in  1875  the  committee-room  of  the 
Conservative  candidate  was  attacked,  but  the  agent  kept 
up  the  fire  and  had  red-hot  pokers  ready,  which,  stand- 
ing at  the  top  of  the  stairs,  he  offered  to  his  assailants, 
but  they  would  not  take  them  !     In  the  same  town  the 
Liberals  held  a  prayer-meeting,  at  which  the  Conserva- 
tives  presented    each    man    with    one   of    Moody    and 
Sankey's  hymn-books,  with  something  between  the  leaves. 
In  fact,  the  Reform  Bill  had  not  made  elections  pure. 
William  Roupell  obtained  his  seat  for  Lambeth  by  the 
expenditure  of  £1 0,000,  'and,1  said  a  man  well  able  to 
judge  of  the  truth  of  his  assertion,  'if  he  were  released 
from  prison  (to  which  he  was  sent  for  life  for  his  forgeries) 
and   would   spend  another   ^10,000,  he  would   be  re- 
elected, in  spite  of  his  having  proved  a  criminal."' 

Money  carried  the  day  at  elections.  According  to 
a  speech  made  by  Mr.  Bright  at  Glasgow  in  1866,  a 
member  had  told  him  that  his  election  had  cost  him 


38  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

£9,000  already,  and  that  he  had  £3,000  more  to  pay. 
At  a  contest  in  North  Shropshire  in  1876,  the  expenses 
of  the  successful  candidate,  Mr.  Stanley  Leighton, 
amounted  to  £1 1,727,  and  of  the  defeated  candidate, 
Mr.  Mainwaring,  to  £10,688.  At  the  General  Election 
of  1880,  in  the  county  of  Middlesex,  the  expenses  of 
the  successful  candidates,  Lord  George  Hamilton  and 
Mr.  Octavius  Coope,  were  £11,506.  The  cost  of  the 
Gravesend  election,  and  the  petition  which  followed 
and  unseated  the  candidate  returned,  was  estimated  at 
£20,000.  But  the  most  expensive  contest  ever  known 
in  electioneering  was  that  for  the  representation  of 
Yorkshire.  The  candidates  were  Viscount  Milton,  son 
of  Earl  Fitzwilliam,  a  Whig  ;  the  Hon.  Henry  Lascelles, 
son  of  Lord  Harewood,  a  Tory  ;  and  William  Wilber- 
force,  in  the  Dissenting  and  Independent  interest.  The 
election  was  carried  on  for  fifteen  days,  Mr.  Wilberforce 
being  at  the  head  of  the  poll  all  the  time.  It  terminated 
in  his  favour  and  in  that  of  Lord  Milton.  The  contest 
is  said  to  have  cost  the  parties  near  half  a  million 
pounds.  The  expenses  of  Wilberforce  were  defrayed  by 
public  subscription,  more  than  double  the  sum  being 
raised  within  a  few  days,  and  one  moiety  was  afterwards 
returned  to  the  subscribers.  When  Whitbread,  the 
brewer,  first  opposed  the  Duke  of  Bedford's  interest  at 
Bedford,  the  Duke  informed  him  that  he  wrould  spend 
£50,000  rather  than  that  he  should  come  in.  Whit- 
bread replied  that  was  nothing,  the  sale  of  his  grains 
would  pay  for  that.  Now,  John  Elwes,  the  miser,  knew 
better  than  that.  Though  worth  half  a  million  of 
money,  he  entered  Parliament,  by  the  interest  of  Lord 
Craven,  at  the  expense  of  Is.  6d.,  for  which  he  had  a 


OLD  M.P.S  AND  SOME  OF  THEIR  SAYINGS     39 

dinner  at  Abingdon.     From  1774  he  sat  for  the  next 
twelve  years  for  Berkshire,  his  conduct  being  perfectly 
independent,  and  in  his  case  there  had  been  no  bribery 
that  could  be  brought  home  to  him.     He  was  a  great 
gambler,  and,  after  staking  large  sums  all   night,  he 
would,  in  the  morning,  go  to  Smithfield  to  await  the 
arrival  of  his  cattle  from  his  farms  in  Essex,  and,  if  not 
arrived,  would  walk  on  to  meet  them.     He  wore  a  wig ; 
if  he  found  one  thrown  away  into  the  gutter,  he  would 
appropriate  and  wear  it.     In  those  days  members  occa- 
sionally wore  dress-swords  at  the  House.     One  day  a 
gentleman  seated  next  to  Elwes  was  rising  to  leave  his 
place,  and  just  at  that  moment  Elwes  bent  forward,  so 
that  the  point  of  the  sword  the  gentleman  wore  came 
in  contact  with  Elwes's  wig,  which  it  whisked  off  and 
earned  away.     The  House  was  instantly  in  a  roar  of 
laughter,  whilst  the  gentleman,  unconscious  of  what  he 
had  done,  calmly  walked  away,  and  Elwes  after  him  to 
recover  his  wig,  which  looked  as  if  it  was  one  of  those 
he  had  picked  up  in  the  gutter. 

Bribes  were  expected  and  given,  as  we  have  seen.  Of 
course,  the  thing  was  not  done  openly.  Tricks  were 
practised,  understood  by  all  parties.  The  agent  would 
sit  in  a  room  in  an  out-of-the-way  place.  A  voter  would 
come  in  ;  the  agent  would  say,  '  How  are  you  to-day  P1 
and  hold  up  three  fingers.  '  I  am  not  very  well,1  the 
answer  would  be,  when  the  agent  would  accidentally 
hold  up  his  hand,  upon  which  the  voter  would  say  that 
he  thought  fresh  air  would  do  him  good,  and  look  out 
of  the  window  as  if  examining  the  sky.  In  the  mean- 
time the  agent  would  place  five  sovereigns  on  the  table, 
and  also  go  to  look  at  the  weather.     His  back  being 


40  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

turned  to  the  table,  the  voter  would  quietly  slip  the 
cash  into  his  pocket,  and,  saying  '  Good-morning,'1  take 
his  departure.  And  how  could  any  bribery  be  proved  ? 
But  occasionally  the  people  expecting  bribes  were  nicely 
taken  in.  Lord  Cochrane,  when  he  first  stood  for 
Honiton,  refused  to  give  bribes,  and  the  seat  was  secured 
by  his  opponent,  who  gave  £5  for  every  vote.  On  this 
Cochrane  sent  the  bellman  round  to  announce  that  he 
would  give  to  every  one  of  the  minority  who  had  voted 
for  him  10  guineas.  At  the  next  election  no  questions 
were  asked,  and  Cochrane  was  returned  by  an  over- 
whelming majority.  Those  who  had  voted  for  him  then 
intimated  that  they  expected  some  acknowledgment  for 
their  support.  He  declined  to  give  a  penny,  and  when 
he  was  reminded  that,  after  the  former  election,  he  had 
given  10  guineas  to  every  one  of  the  minority,  he  coolly 
replied  that  this  was  for  their  disinterestedness  in  refusing 
his  opponent's  £5,  and  that  to  pay  them  now  would  be 
acting  in  violation  of  his  principle  not  to  bribe.  And 
the  disinterested  voters  marched  off  with  faces  as  long- 
as  those  of  horses. 

The  Reform  Bill  of  1832,  which  was  highly  objection- 
able to  old-fashioned  Conservatives,  was  accused  by 
them  of  having  introduced  some  very  queer  and  curious 
members  into  the  House.  Through  this  Bill  the  bone- 
grubber,  as  Raike  calls  him,  W.  Cobbett,  was  returned 
for  Oldham,  and  Brighton,  under  the  very  nose  of  the 
Court,  returned  two  rampant  Radicals,  who  openly 
talked  of  reducing  the  allowance  made  to  the  King  and 
Queen.  Nay,  John  Gully,  a  prize-fighter,  was  returned 
to  the  House  for  Pontefract,  and  was  re-elected  at  the 
next  election.     He  at  one  time  kept  the  Plough  Inn  in 


OLD  M.P.S  AND  SOME  OF  THEIR  SAYINGS     41 

Carey  Street,  which  was  pulled  down  just  before  the 
erection  of  the  new  Law  Courts.  Eventually  he  resigned 
his  seat  on  account  of  ill-health,  as  he  averred  ;  but  as 
he  became  a  great  patron  of  racing,  and  was  a  constant 
attendant  at  the  various  race-courses,  his  ill-health  was 
probably  only  a  pretence  for  quitting  a  sphere  for  which 
he  felt  himself  unfit.  On  his  first  election  the  following 
epigram  appeared  against  him  : 

'  If  anyone  ask  why  should  Pontef  ract  sully 
Its  name  by  returning  to  Parliament  Gully, 
The  etymological  cause,  I  suppose,  is 
He's  broken  the  bridges  of  so  many  noses.' 

Another  member  who  may  be  reckoned  among  the 
curiosities  who  have  sat  in  the  House  was  William 
Roupell.  He  was  the  illegitimate  son  of  Richard 
Palmer  Roupell,  a  wealthy  lead  merchant,  who  invested 
a  large  sum  in  the  purchase  of  land,  to  which  he  gave 
the  name  of  the  Roupell  Park  Estate.  William  was 
his  favourite  son,  though  he  had  other  legitimate 
children  ;  and  it  was  not  till  a  few  days  before  his 
father's  death  that  he  learnt  the  secret  of  his  own  birth. 
The  former  had  made  a  will,  by  which  he  left  this 
property  to  William,  on  condition  of  his  making  annual 
payments  to  his  brothers  and  sisters ;  but  as  this  would 
have  brought  to  light  the  forgeries  he  had  already  com- 
mitted during  his  father's  lifetime,  to  the  amount  of 
about  dfl  50,000,  he,  on  his  father's  death,  managed  to 
get  hold  of  the  will,  which  eventually  he  destroyed, 
substituting  a  forged  one,  leaving  all  to  his  wife  and 
William ;  and  the  latter  quickly  persuaded  his  mother 
to  confer  the  greater  part  of  the  estates  on  him  by  deed 


42  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

of  gift.     He  soon  obtained  the  social  position  the  great 
wealth  he  now  possessed  usually  commands;  he  stood 
for  Lambeth,  and  by  the  expenditure  of  i?l 0,000,  as 
already  mentioned,  he  obtained  the  seat.     But  Roupell 
was  not  only  a  rogue,  but  a  fool.     By  gambling  and 
extravagance  he  soon  ran  through  the  fortune  he  had 
obtained  by  crooked  means.     Finding  the  detection  of 
his  crimes  inevitable,  he  fled  to  Spain,  but  eventually 
returned,  and  gave  himself  up  to  justice,  confessing  the 
forgeries  he  had  committed.      Of  course,  the  persons 
who  had  purchased  property  then  became  aware  that 
the  deeds  by  which  they  held  it  were  worthless.     The 
court  considered  his  offences  so  serious  that  in  1862  it 
condemned  him  to  penal  servitude  for  life  ;  but  he  was 
released  after  an  imprisonment  of  fourteen  years.     In 
1876  he  left  Portland  a  free  man  again.     But  it  is  with 
Roupell    as    a    member   of   Parliament  we  are  chiefly 
concerned.      In  that  capacity  he  did  not  shine.      He 
remained  in  the  House  long  enough  to  prove  that  he 
was    disqualified    to    represent   a   large   borough    like 
Lambeth.     He  took  no  part  in  the  debates,  nor  did  he 
appear  to  be  able  to  grapple    with   and    master  any 
question   connected   with   politics.      Being   asked   one 
evening  at  the  Horns,  when  meeting  his  constituents, 
why  he  did  not  speak  in  the  House  of  Commons,  he 
replied :  '  Because  I  do  not  want  to  make  a  fool  of 
myself.1      Next  morning  the   Times  made  merry  with 
this  confession.     He   was   consequently   regarded  as  a 
cipher,  but  he  was  supported  by  his  supposed  wealth. 
But  soon  suspicious  murmurs  began  to  be  heard,  and 
he  prepared  for  his  flight  to  Spain  ;  and  he  decamped 
without    making    any    application    for    the    Chiltern 


OLD  M.P.S  AND  SOME  OF  THEIR  SAYINGS     43 

Hundreds,  so  that  for  a  considerable  time  his  place  in 
Parliament  could  not  be  filled  up.  Advertisements  in 
GaUgnani  apprised  him  of  the  omission,  and  at  length 
the  application  was  made.  He  did  not  meet  with 
much  pity,  either  from  the  public  or  the  press  ;  squibs 
without  end  appeared  against  him  in  the  papers.  We 
append  a  specimen  of  a  short  one  : 

1  Now,  the  Lambeth  folks  this  wealthy  gent 
As  their  member  did  decide  on, 
But  little  they  knew  he'd  happened  to  do 

Some  things  he  didn't  oughter  ; 
For  he'd  forged  a  will  and  several  deeds.  .  .  . 

'  And  the  public  said  :  "  Well,  this  here  Roupell 
Has  got  no  more  than  he  oughter." 
So  there  was  an  end  of  the  wealthy  gent 
As  was  member  from  over  the  water.' 

Lambeth  appears  to  have  been  unfortunate  in  the 
selection  of  its  Parliamentary  candidates.  In  1852  the 
parochial  party,  wishing  for  a  local  man,  formed  them- 
selves into  a  committee  to  secure  the  election  of  Mr. 
Joseph  Harvey,  of  Lambeth  House,  a  drapery  estab- 
lishment in  the  Westminster  Bridge  Road.  Mr. 
Harvey  had  never  taken  an  active  part  in  public 
matters ;  his  tastes  lay  not  that  way.  He  shrank 
from  public  life,  and  had  no  training  or  aptitude  for 
addressing  large  meetings.  However,  he  was  forced 
forward  ;  but  when  he  spoke  at  the  Horns — the  speech 
was  written  for  him  by  someone  else — his  total  in- 
capacity for  the  position  thrust  on  him  became  so 
apparent  that  he  gave  up  the  contest,  but  not  before 
he  had  afforded  plenty  of  food  to  the  squib-writers. 

Parliament  is  not  above  the  use  of  nicknames,  either 


44  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

by  way  of  praise   or  in   scorn.      Cobbett\s  talent  for 
fastening  such  names  on  anyone  he  disliked  was  very 
great.      He    invented    '  Prosperity    Robinson,'    '  iEolus 
Canning,''  '  Pink-nosed  Liverpool,1  '  unbaptized,  button- 
less  blackguards,''  or  Quakers.     Lord  Yarmouth,  from 
the  colour  of  his  whiskers,  and  from  the  place  which 
gave   him   his   title,    was   known   as   '  Red   Herrings.1 
Lord  Durham  so  often  opposed  his  colleagues  in  the 
Cabinet  that  he  was  called  the  '  Dissenting  Minister.1 
Thomas  Duncombe  was  so  popular  that  he  was  always 
spoken  of  as   '  Honest 1   or   '  Poor 1  Tom  ;    his  French 
friends  called  him  '  Cher  Tonne.'     John  Arthur  Roe- 
buck had  a  habit  of  bringing  forward,  in  a  startling  way, 
facts  he  had  got  hold  of,  and  thus  raising  opposition  ; 
and  from  a  passage  in  a  speech  he  made  at  the  Cutlers1 
Feast,  at  Sheffield,  in  1858,  obtained  the  nickname  of 
'Tear  'em.'     He  had  just  paid  a  visit  to  Cherbourg, 
and  returned  home  with  feelings  very  unfriendly  to  the 
then  ruler  of  France,  to  which  he  gave  expression  at 
the  feast,  excusing  himself  at  the  same  time  for  using 
such  language  towards  a  neighbour  by  saying :  '  The 
farmer  who  goes  to  sleep,  having  placed  the  watch-dog, 
Tear  'em,  over  his  rick-yard,  hears  that  dog  bark.     He 
bawls  out  of  the  window  :  "  Down,  Tear  'em,  down  I11 
And  Tear  1em  does  not  again  disturb  his  sleep,  till  he 
is  woke  up  by  the  strong  blaze  of  his  corn  and   hay 
ricks.      I   am   Tear   "em.      Beware !      Cherbourg   is   a 
standing  menace  to  England.1     Michael  Angelo  Taylor 
was  known  by  the  sobriquet  of  '  Chicken 1  Taylor.     On 
some  points  of  law  he  had  answered  the  great  lawyer 
Bearcroft,  but   not    without  apologizing    for  his  ven- 
turing, he  being  but  a  chicken  in  the  law,  on  a  fight 


OLD  M.P.S  AND  SOME  OF  THEIR  SAYINGS     45 

with  the  cock  of  Westminster  Hall.  Charles  Wynn 
was  brother  to  Sir  Watkin  Wynn,  and  from  a  peculi- 
arity in  the  utterances  of  the  latter,  and  the  shrillness 
of  Charles's  voice,  the  two  went  by  the  nicknames  of 
'  Bubble  and  Squeak."  Sir  Watkin  was  also  known  as 
'  Small  Journal 1  Wynn,  from  his  extensive  knowledge 
of  Parliamentary  rule.  William  Cowper,  falsely  accused 
of  having  married  a  second  wife  whilst  his  first  was  still 
alive,  was  known  as  '  Will  Bigamy."1 

Strangers  formerly  were  not  allowed  to  be  present  at 
the  deliberations  of  the  House ;  now  they  are  admitted 
to  the  Strangers"'  Gallery,  but  never  to  the  floor  of  the 
House.  Yet  sometimes  there  will  be  an  intruder. 
Once  Lord  North,  when  speaking,  was  interrupted  by 
the  barking  of  a  dog  which  had  crept  in.  He  turned 
round,  and  said  :  '  Mr.  Speaker,  I  am  interrupted  by  a 
new  member.1  The  dog  was  driven  out,  but  got  in 
again,  and  recommenced  barking,  when  Lord  North,  in 
his  dry  way,  said  :  '  Spoke  once."1 

We  are  near  the  limits  of  our  space.  Let  us  con- 
clude with  recording  a  few  of  the  strange  designations 
given  to  Parliaments.  The  Parliament  de  la  Bonde 
was  a  Parliament  in  the  reign  of  Edward  II.,  to  which 
the  Barons  came  armed  against  the  Spencers,  with 
coloured  bands,  or  '  bonds,1  upon  their  sleeves,  by  way 
of  distinction.  The  Diabolical  Parliament  was  one  held 
at  Coventry  in  the  thirty-eighth  year  of  Henry  VI.'s 
reign,  and  in  which  Edward,  Earl  of  March,  afterwards 
King,  and  several  of  the  nobility,  were  attainted.  The 
Unlearned  Parliament,  held  at  Coventry  in  the  sixth 
year  of  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.,  was  so  called  by  way 
of  derision,  because,  by  a  special  precept  to  the  sheriffs 


46  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

in  their  several  counties,  no  lawyers  were  to  be  admitted 
thereto.  The  Insane  Parliament,  which  was  held  at 
Oxford  in  the  forty-first  year  of  the  reign  of  Henry  III., 
obtained  this  name  from  the  extraordinary  proceedings 
of  the  Lords,  who  came  with  great  retinues  of  armed 
men,  '  when  contention  grew  very  high,  and  many 
things  were  enacted  contrary  to  the  King's  prerogative.1 
We  might  add  to  the  list,  but  the  gas  is  being  turned 
off;  so  vale! 


V. 

FAMOUS  OLD  ACTORS. 

/""]i~"vHERE  is  a  boom  just  now  in  the  theatrical  world. 
-*■  New  theatres  are  springing  up,  not  only  in 
London  proper,  but  in  all  its  suburbs,  yet  it  is 
only  history  repeating  itself.  From  1570  to  1629  no 
less  than  seventeen  playhouses  had  been  built  in  London, 
and  London  then  extended  only  from  the  Tower  to 
Westminster,  and  from  Oxford  Street  to  Blackman 
Street  in  the  Borough.  The  first  London  theatre  was 
the  Fortune,*  opened  about  the  year  1600,  a  large 
round,  brick  building  between  Whitecross  Street  and 
Golding — now  Golden — Lane,  which  was  burnt  down 
on  December  9, 1621 .  The  town  was  then  full  of  actors, 
for  besides  those  playing  at  the  various  theatres,  there 
were  royal  comedians.  Many  noblemen  kept  companies 
of  players,  nay,  the  lawyers  acted  in  the  Inns  of  Court, 
and  there  were  actors  of  note  among  them.  But  the 
inevitable  reaction  ensued.  Amidst  the  storms  of  the 
Revolution  the  stage  was  neglected.    Even  Shakespeare 

*  The  Curtain  is  said  to  have  been  erected  in  1570,  on  the 
site  of  the  present  Curtain  Road,  but  the  date  is  doubtful,  and 
it  was  more  of  an  inn  than  a  playhouse. 


48  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

had  to  take  a  back-seat  till  Garrick  brought  him  into 
fashion  again,  though  it  is  chiefly  to  the  learned  and 
enthusiastic  criticism  and  appreciation  of  German 
students  of  Shakespeare  that  the  revival  of  his  plays  on 
the  stage  is  due.  His  reputation  was  '  made  in  Ger- 
many,'  and  the  Germans  we  have  to  thank  for  a  Shake- 
speare who  is  presentable  to  a  modern  audience,  which 
the  original  writer  was  not ;  his  plays  were  only  fit  to 
be  acted  before  the  savages  who  delighted  in  bull  and 
bear  baiting.  This  estimate  of  the  Shakespearian  drama 
is  not  in  accordance  with  the  prevailing  sentiment,  but 
we  have  a  right  to  our  opinions  and  the  courage  to 
express  them.  However,  this  is  only  incidental  to  our 
theme,  which  deals  more  with  actors  and  acting  than 
with  the  plays  they  took  parts  in. 

There  is  a  general  opinion  abroad  that  the  realistic 
play  is  of  quite  modern  date,  probably  brought  on  the 
stage  in  *  LTAssommoir.1  In  a  publication  of  July, 
1797,  I  find  it  stated  that  'our  managers  some  time 
ago  conceived  it  would  be  proper  to  introduce  realities 
instead  of  fictions.  Hence  we  have  seen  real  horses 
and  real  bulls  on  the  stage,  gracing  the  triumphal  entry 
of  some  hero.  Hence,  too,  real  water  has  been  supplied 
in  such  quantities  that  Harlequin's  leap  into  the  sea 
would  now  really  be  no  joke.  .  .  .  The  introduction  of 
water  will,  no  doubt,  facilitate  the  introduction  of  real 
sea-fights,  provided  we  can  get  real  admirals  and  sea- 
men.'' But  the  writer  seems  to  have  been  oblivious  of 
the  fact  that,  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  already 
the  water  of  the  New  River  had  been  carried  under  the 
flooring  of  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre,  the  boards  being 
removed,  for  the  exhibition    of  aquatic  performances. 


FAMOUS  OLD  ACTORS  49 

And  as  to  this  century,  long  before  the  more  recent 
realistic  plays,  we  have  seen  in  the  sixties  a  real  cab 
with  a  real  horse  brought  on  to  the  stage  to  give  the 
heroine,  who  is  about  to  elope,  the  opportunity  of 
uttering  the  pun :  '  Now,  four-wheeler,  wo  P  (for  weal 
or  woe  !).     And  a  very  good  pun  it  is. 

The  formation  of  the  English  drama  is  chiefly  due  to 
the  '  Children  of  Paul,1  or  pupils  of  St.  Paul's  School, 
in  those  days  nicknamed  the  'Pigeons  of  St.  Paul.1 
The  dramatic  celebrity  of  these  juvenile  performers  goes 
back  as  far  as  the  year  1378.  Originally  they  confined 
themselves  to  '  moralities,1  but  in  the  reign  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  before  whom  they  acted  on  various  occasions, 
they  appeared  in  the  regular  drama  with  considerable 
applause.  They  exhibited  burlesque  interludes  and 
farcical  comedies.  Their  schoolroom,  which  stood  behind 
the  Convocation  House  near  St.  Paul's,  was  their  stage ; 
but  about  the  year  1580  the  citizens,  bent  on  driving  all 
players  out  of  the  city,  caused  it  to  be  removed.  The 
plague  had,  as  usual,  caused  great  ravages  in  London, 
and  it  was  thought  that  the  actors  were  great  means 
of  spreading  it,  wherefore  their  performances  were 
altogether  prohibited.  When  the  '  Children  of  Paul 1 
performed  out  of  their  own  premises,  it  was  generally 
the  Blackfriars  Theatre  they  resorted  to.  When  they 
performed  in  the  school-house  the  admission  was  2d. 
This  charge  was  made  to  keep  the  company  select,  and 
according  to  a  passage  in  '  Jacke  Drum's  Entertainment,1 
first  printed  in  1601,  it  was  select : 

'  Sir  Edward  :  I  saw  the  "  Children  of  Paul's  "  last 
night,  and  troth,  they  pleased  me  prettie,  prettie  well. 
The  apes  in  time  will  do  it  handsomely. 

4 


50  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

'  Planet  :  I  like  the  audience  that  frequenteth  there 
with  much  applause.  A  man  shall  not  be  choked  with 
the  stench  of  garlick,  nor  be  passed  to  the  barmy  jacket 
of  a  beer  brewer.1 

The  stage  did  not  attain  a  dignified  position  till  the 
time  of  Shakespeare.  He  and  his  fellow-actors — Burbage, 
Heminge,  Condell,  Taylor,  Kemp,  Sly — ennobled  it, 
and  since  then  the  roll  of  English  actors  who  have 
gained  distinction  on  the  boards  is  very  long,  and  our 
limited  space  allows  us  to  refer  to  but  a  few  of  them, 
and  then  only  to  some  characteristic  traits. 

Let  us  commence  with  a  defence  of  Garrick's  conduct 
towards  Johnson.  When  the  latter  was  preparing  his 
edition  of  '  Shakespeare,1  Garrick  offered  him  the  use 
of  his  choice  library.  But,  entering  the  room,  he  found 
Johnson,  according  to  his  usual  habit,  pulling  the  books 
off  the  shelves,  breaking  their  backs,  more  easily  to 
read  them,  and  throwing  them  carelessly  on  the  floor. 
Garrick  naturally  grew  very  angry,  for  which  he  has 
been  much  abused,  charged  with  '  having  acted  in 
abominably  bad  taste  .  .  .  without  any  true  gentle- 
manly feeling  .  .  .  that  knowing  his  friend's  character 
.  .  .  Garrick  ought  to  have  been  prepared  for  any  slight 
unfavourable  consequences.  He  ought  to  have  known 
that  much  might  be  excused  in  so  great  a  man,1  etc. 
Now,  this  is  most  undeserved  censure  on  a  man  of 
greater  parts  than  Johnson  ever  could  boast  of.  The 
only  thing  he  ever  wrote  which  will  live  is  his  Dictionary. 
As  to  his  greatness,  if  unabashed  bounce  and  a  dictatorial 
jaw  constitute  greatness,  he  certainly,  judging  him  by 
Bozzy's  account,  could  lay  claim  to  such.  Garrick's 
generosity  induced  him  to  offer  a  bear  the  use  of  his 


FAMOUS  OLD  ACTORS  51 

books.     Still,  he  had  a  right  to  expect  that  even  a  bear, 
who  professed  to  admire  and  practise  literature,  would 
know  how  to  treat  books.     But  the  bear  remained  a 
bear  everywhere.      He  treated  Mr.  Thrale's  books  no 
better.     But  Garrick  was  generous  in  other  ways.     He 
was  often  visited  at  his  villa,  near  Sunbury,  by  a  gentle- 
man with  whom  he  used  to  have  lone;  and  violent  argu- 
ments  on  various  matters,  the  visitor  generally  differing 
from,  and  contradicting,  his  host.     One  day  Garrick,  at 
the  gentleman's  request,  readily  lent  him  i?100.     Their 
discussions  continued,  but  the  visitor  was  no  longer  so 
violent  in  his  arguments,  nor  did  he  contradict  Garrick 
as   he   had    done    formerly.      On    one    occasion,    when 
Garrick  had  reintroduced  an  argument  his  friend  had 
always  violently  combated,  but  now  mildly  conceded, 
Garrick,  who  liked  a  lively  discussion,  jumped  up  and 
exclaimed  :  '  Pay  me  my  hundred  pounds,  or  contradict 
me  I1     Garrick's  generous  nature  broke  forth   in   that 
exclamation,  and  he  did  not   wish  his  friend  to   feel 
under  an   obligation.     That  his   character  was  gentle 
and  chivalrous  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  his  wife  and 
he  were  considered  the  fondest  pair  ever  known,  though 
the  lady  was  a  woman  with  plenty  of  spirit.     Her  letter 
of  remonstrance  against  Keaifs  Abel  Drugger  was  brief: 
'  Dear  Sik, — You  don't  know  how  to  play  Abel  Drugger.1 
To  which  Kean  courteously,  yet  wittily,  replied :  '  Dear 
Madam, — I  know  it."1    She  must  have  been  very  sprightly, 
too,  for  when  at  the  age  of  ninety-eight,  and  about  two 
months  before  her  death  (November,  1822),  she  visited 
Westminster    Abbey,    she    asked    the    clergyman    who 
attended  her  if  there  would  be  room  for  her  by  the 
side  of  her  David — '  not,1  she  said,  '  that  I  think  I  am 

4—2 


52  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

likely  soon  to  require  it,  for  I  am  yet  a  mere  girl  P  She 
was  a  Viennese  danseuse,  Madame  Violette,  when  Garrick 
married  her,  and  Horace  Walpole  reports  that  it  was 
whispered  at  the  time  that  she  had  been  sent  over  to 
England  by  no  less  a  person  than  the  Empress-Queen, 
Maria  Theresa,  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  that  somewhat 
jealous  lady's  husband.  Apprehensive  that  he  might 
be  ridiculed  for  marrying  a  dancer,  Garrick  got  some 
friend  to  satirize  him  publicly  beforehand.  But  we 
have  seen  that  the  marriage  turned  out  a  very  happy 
one.  Garrick  had  been  the  pupil  of  Johnson,  when 
the  latter  kept,  or  attempted  to  keep,  a  school  near 
Lichfield,  and  he  and  his  two  fellow-pupils  (he  never 
had  more  than  two)  used  to  peep  through  the  keyhole 
of  his  bedroom  that  they  might  turn  into  ridicule  the 
doctor's  awkward  fondness  for  Mrs.  Johnson,  who  was 
by  many  years  her  husband's  senior,  and  elephantine  in 
her  figure,  with  swollen  cheeks  and  a  red  complexion, 
produced  by  paint  and  the  liberal  use  of  cordials.  In 
after-years  Garrick  used  to  exhibit  her,  by  his  exquisite 
talent  of  mimicry,  so  as  to  excite  the  heartiest  bursts 
of  laughter.  This  may  seem  ungenerous,  but  Johnson 
paid  Garrick  back  in  the  same  coin.  Vexed  at  Garrick's 
great  success  in  his  profession,  he  made  it  his  business 
always  to  express  the  greatest  contempt  for  actors. 

Quin,  the  contemporary  of  Garrick,  and  his  rival,  was 
employed  by  Prince  Frederick  to  instruct  the  Royal 
children  in  elocution,  and  when  he  was  informed  of  the 
graceful  manner  in  which  George  III.  had  delivered  his 
first  speech  from  the  throne,  he  proudly  said  :  '  Aye,  it 
was  I  who  taught  the  boy  to  speak  .1  Quin  could  be 
witty.    Disputing  concerning  the  execution  of  Charles  L, 


FAMOUS  OLD  ACTORS  53 

and  his  opponent  asking,  '  But  by  what  laws  was  he 
put  to  death  P1  Quin  replied  :  '  By  all  the  laws  he  had 
left  them.1  When  playing  at  Bath,  he  was  at  an 
evening  party,  where  the  transmigration  of  souls  was 
being  discussed.  A  lady,  remarkable  for  the  whiteness 
of  her  neck  and  bust,  asked  him  what  animal  he  would 
wish  to  be  transformed  into.  Quin,  looking  sharply  at 
a  fly  then  travelling  over  her  white  neck,  with  an  arch 
glance  at  her,  said  :  '  A  fly  !'  On  another  occasion  to 
Lady  Berkeley,  a  celebrated  beauty,  he  said  :  '  Why, 
your  ladyship  is  looking  as  charming  as  the  spring.1 
The  season  was  spring,  but  the  day  was  raw  and  cold, 
and  Quin,  seeing  he  had  paid  the  lady  but  a  poor  com- 
pliment, corrected  himself  by  adding  :  '  Or,  rather,  I 
wish  the  spring  would  look  a  little  more  like  your  lady- 
ship.1 

In  Clare  Street,  Clare  Market,  there  is  a  public-house 
called  the  Sun.  John  Rich,  the  harlequin  and  lessee  of 
the  Duke's  Theatre  in  Portugal  Street  (long  since  taken 
down),  returning  from  the  theatre  in  a  hackney-coach, 
ordered  to  be  driven  to  the  Sun.  On  arriving  there,  he 
jumped  out  of  the  coach,  and  through  the  window  into 
the  public-house.  The  coachman  thought  his  fare  was 
a  'bilk*;  but  whilst  he  was  still  looking  up  and  down 
the  street,  Rich  again  jumped  into  the  coach,  and  told 
the  driver  to  take  him  to  another  public-house.  On 
reaching  it,  Rich  offered  to  pay  the  coachman,  but  the 
latter  refused  the  money,  saying :  '  No,  none  of  your 
money,  Mr.  Devil ;  though  you  wear  shoes,  I  can  see 
your  hoofs ';  and  he  drove  off'  as  quickly  as  possible. 
The  theatre  called  the  Duke's  Theatre,  in  Portugal 
Street,  was  rebuilt  by  Christopher  Rich,  the  father  of 


54  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  above-mentioned  John,  but  he  died  before  the 
building  was  quite  finished,  and  it  was  opened  by 
John ;  and  it  is  in  this  theatre  that  the  modern  stage 
took  its  rise,  and  here  the  earliest  Shakespearian  re- 
vivals took  place.  Quin  was  one  of  the  performers 
there ;  and  there  the  '  Beggar's  Opera '  was  first  pro- 
duced, and  acted  on  sixty-two  nights  in  one  season, 
causing  the  saying  that  it  made  Gay  rich  and  Rich 
gay.  The  opera  was  written  under  the  auspices  of  the 
Duchess  of  Queensberry,  who  agreed  to  indemnify  Rich 
in  all  expenses  if  the  daring  speculation  should  fail. 

Rich,  in  1731,  built  himself  a  new  theatre — the 
Covent  Garden  Theatre — on  a  site  granted  by  the 
Duke  of  Bedford,  at  a  ground-rent  of  i?100  per 
annum.  When  a  new  lease  was  granted,  in  1792, 
the  ground-rent  was  raised  to  £94:0  per  annum.  When 
Thomas  Killigrew  was  manager  of  the  theatre  in  Bear 
Yard,  Clare  Market,  he  was  a  great  favourite  with 
Charles  II.  This  King  at  times  showed  great  indiffer- 
ence to  the  business  of  the  State,  and  refused  to  attend 
the  Council.  One  day,  when  he  had  been  long  ex- 
pected, Lord  Lauderdale  went  to  his  apartments,  but 
was  refused  admission.  His  lordship  complained  to 
Nell  Gwynne,  upon  which  she  wagered  him  £100  that 
the  King;  would  that  evening  attend  the  Council. 
Then  she  sent  for  Killigrew,  and  asked  him  to  dress 
as  if  for  a  journey,  and  to  enter  the  King's  rooms 
without  ceremony,  with  further  instructions  what  he 
was  to  do  then.  As  soon  as  the  King  saw  him,  he 
said  : 

'  What,  Killigrew  !  Where  are  you  going  ?  Did  I 
not  give  orders  that  I  was  not  to  be  disturbed  T 


FAMOUS  OLD  ACTORS  55 

'  I  don't  mind  your  orders,  and  I  am  going  as  fast  as 
I  can.-1 

'  Why,  where  are  you  going  P1 

'To  hell,'  replied  the  jester  in  a  sepulchral  tone. 

'  What  are  you  going  to  do  there  ?'  asked  the  King, 
laughing. 

'  To  fetch  back  Oliver  Cromwell,  to  take  some  care 
of  the  national  affairs,  for  I  am  sure  your  Majesty  takes 
none.'' 

And  the  King  went  to  the  Council. 

Another  famous  comedian  of  that  day  was  Joe 
Haines,  who  was  an  Oxford  M.A.,  but  a  scamp  of  the 
first  order,  who  managed  to  cheat  even  the  rector  of 
the  Jesuit  College  in  Paris  out  of  cP40  by  a  pretended 
note  from  the  Duke  of  Monmouth.  Not  long  after, 
meeting  with  a  simple-minded  clergyman,  he  told  him 
that  he  was  one  of  the  patentees  of  Drury  Lane,  and 
appointed  him  his  chaplain,  instructing  him  at  the 
same  time  to  go  to  the  theatre  with  a  large  bell,  to 
ring  it,  and  call  out :  '  Players,  come  to  prayers  P 
Which  the  clergyman  did,  till  he  found  he  had  been 
hoaxed.  In  the  reign  of  James  II.,  this  Haines  turned 
Roman  Catholic,  and  told  Sunderland  that  the  Virgin 
Mary  had  appeared,  and  said  to  him  :  '  Joe,  arise  P  To 
this  Sunderland  dryly  replied  that  she  should  have  said 
'  Joseph,1  if  only  out  of  respect  for  her  husband. 

The  greatest  actor  at  the  time  of  Charles  II.  was 
undoubtedly  Thomas  Betterton.  He  joined  the  com- 
pany of  Sir  William  Davenant  in  1662.  Pepys  fre- 
quently went  to  see  him.  In  those  days  the  pay  of 
actors  was  not  what  it  is  now  ;  Betterton,  in  spite  of 
the  position  he  held  in  public  estimation,  never  had 


56  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

more  than  =£5  a  week,  including  £1,  by  way  of  pension, 
to  his  wife,  who  retired  in  1694.  In  1709  he  took  a 
benefit,  at  which  the  money  taken  at  the  doors  was 
£15,  but  he  received  also  more  than  £4*50  in  compli- 
mentary guineas  ;  and  in  the  following  year  he  had 
another  benefit,  by  which  he  netted  about  iP^OOO.  Of 
course,  according  to  modern  notions,  these  are  but 
small  receipts ;  but  they  are  better  than  what  seems 
to  have  been  the  standard  of  theatrical  payments  in 
1511 — judging  from  a  bill  of  that  year,  without  name 
of  place  where  the  acting  took  place,  but  which  states 
that  it  was  performed  on  the  feast  of  St.  Margaret 
(July  20).  According  to  legend,  the  devil,  in  the  shape 
of  a  dragon,  swallowed  St.  Margaret,  but  she  speedily 
made  her  escape,  and  was  thus  considered  to  possess 
great  powers  of  assisting  women  in  childbirth.  The 
bill  runs  thus : 

'  To  musicians,  for  three  nights,  £0  5s.  6d.  ;  for 
players  in  bread  and  ale,  £0  3s.  Id.  ;  for  decorations, 
dresses,  and  play-books,  £1  0s.  Od. ;  to  John  Hobbard, 
priest,  and  author  of  the  piece,  £0  2s.  8d.  ;  for  the 
place  in  which  the  presentation  was  held,  £0  Is.  Od 
for  furniture,  £0  Is.  4d. ;  for  fish  and  bread,  £0  0s.  4d 
for  painting  three  phantoms  and  devils,  i?0  0s.  6d 
and  for  four  chickens  for  the  hero,  £0  0s.  4d.''  We  see 
here  the  author  received  only  2s.  8d.  for  writing  the 
play.  Matters  have  improved  since  then  ;  Sheridan 
realized  i?3,000  by  the  sale  of  his  altered  play  of 
'  Pizarro.''  In  the  early  part  of  this  century  authors 
of  successful  pieces  received  from  the  theatre  from  o^250 
to  d^SOO,  and  from  the  purchaser  of  the  copyright  for 
publication  from  d(?100  to  <i?400.     Then  actors  received 


FAMOUS  OLD  ACTORS  57 

i?30  a  week ;  favourite  performers — stars,  as  we  should 
now  call  them — were  paid  ci?50  a  night.  Actors  have 
at  times  found  very  generous  friends.  When,  in  1808, 
Covent  Garden  Theatre,  then  under  the  management 
of  John  P.  Kemble,  was  burnt  down,  the  loss  was 
immense,  and  the  insurances  did  not  exceed  i?50,000. 
The  then  Duke  of  Northumberland  offered  Kemble  the 
sum  of  XJ10,000  as  a  loan  on  his  simple  bond.  The 
offer  was  accepted,  and  the  bond  given.  On  the  day 
appointed  for  laying  the  first  stone,  the  bond  was 
returned  cancelled  ! 

Italian  opera-singers  have  made  large  fortunes  in 
England.  When  Owen  McSwiney  was  lessee  of  the 
Haymarket,  circa  1708,  he  engaged  one  Nicolini,  a 
Neapolitan,  who  really  was  a  splendid  actor  and  a  mag- 
nificent-looking man,  with  a  voice  which  won  universal 
admiration,  at  a  salary  of  eight  hundred  guineas  for 
the  season — at  that  time  an  enormous  sum.  Nicolini 
left  the  stage  in  1712,  and  returned  to  Italy,  where  he 
built  himself  a  fine  villa,  which,  as  a  testimony  of  his 
gratitude  to  the  nation  which  enriched  him,  he  called 
the  English  Folly.  In  1721  a  company  of  French 
comedians  occupied  the  Haymarket,  to  the  disgust  of 
native  actors.  Aaron  Hill,  the  dramatic  author  and 
opera-manager,  consequently  had  occasion  to  write  to 
John  Rich :  '  I  suppose  you  know  that  the  Duke  of 
Montague  and  I  have  agreed  that  I  am  to  have  that 
house  half  the  week,  and  the  "French  vermin11  the 
other  half.'  International  courtesies  were  at  some 
discount  at  the  time  ! 

A  few  theatrical  anecdotes  may  close  these  lucubra- 
tions.     Actors    sometimes   are   strangely   affected    by 


58  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

their  own  parts.  Betterton,  although  his  countenance 
was  ruddy,  when  he  performed  Hamlet,  through  the 
violent  and  sudden  emotion  of  horror  at  the  presence 
of  his  father's  spectre,  instantly  turned  as  white  as  his 
collar,  whilst  his  whole  body  was  affected  by  a  strong 
tremor.  When  Booth  the  first  time  attempted  the 
ghost,  when  Betterton  acted  Hamlet,  that  actor's  look 
at  him  struck  him  with  such  horror  that  he  became 
disconcerted  to  such  a  degree  that  he  could  not  speak 
his  part.  Of  Mrs.  Siddons,  it  was  said  that  by  the 
force  of  fancy  and  reflection,  she  used  to  be  so  wrought 
up  in  preparing  to  play  Lady  Constance  in  '  King  John,1 
that,  when  she  set  out  from  her  own  house  to  the  theatre, 
she  was  already  Constance  herself. 

Smith — better  known  as '  Gentleman  Smith1 — married 
a  sister  of  Lord  Sandwich.  For  some  time  the  union 
was  kept  concealed,  but  an  apt  quotation  of  Charles 
Bannister  elicited  the  truth  : 

' "  Art  thou  not  Romeo,  and  a  Montague  I11 '  said 
Bannister,  when  Foote  bantered  Smith  on  the  subject. 
The  latter  was  not  proof  against  the  sally,  and  acknow- 
ledged the  marriage.  '  Well,1  said  Bannister,  '  I  rejoice 
that  you  have  got  a  Sandwich  from  the  family ;  but  if 
ever  you  get  a  dinner  from  them,  Til  be  hanged.1  The 
prophecy  proved  true. 

Michael  Kelly  was  an  English  opera-singer,  a  musical 
composer,  and  at  one  time  Sheridan's  manager  at  Drury 
Lane.  He  then  went  into  the  wine  trade,  when  Sheridan 
advised  him  to  put  over  his  door :  '  Michael  Kelly, 
composer  of  wine,  and  importer  of  music.1 


VI. 

OLD  JUDGES  AND  SOME  OF  THEIR  SAYINGS. 

WHEN  I  was  a  little  boy  I  drew  most  of  my 
notions  of  life  and  mankind  from  the  picture- 
books  for  my  use  and  instruction.  I  thought 
that  Kings  and  Queens  wore  their  crowns  and  sceptres 
all  day  long,  and  took  them  to  bed  with  them,  for  I 
had  thus  seen  them  in  the  pictures  in  the  books.  One 
engraving,  I  remember,  I  saw  of  a  severe-looking  gentle- 
man, who  had  thrown  a  gray  doormat  over  his  head, 
and  sat  behind  a  little  desk  everlastingly  writing  away 
with  an  enormous  quill  pen.  It  was  this  quill  pen 
which  specially  riveted  my  attention.  I  was  always 
given  a  steel  pen  in  my  writing-lessons.  Why  not  a 
quill  ?  I  asked  my  mother  who  the  man  was,  and  was 
told  he  was  a  judge,  and  that  what  I  took  for  a  door- 
mat was  a  wig  which  he  wore  to  look  dignified,  and  the 
great  weight  of  which  was,  moreover,  intended  to  prevent 
his  great  legal  learning  from  evaporating  through  the 
pores  of  his  skull,  which  was  bald,  but  compelled  it  to 
come  out  through  his  mouth  only. 

He  used  a  quill  pen  to  take  notes  of  what  was  said 
by  the  parties  contending   before   him,  because  that, 


60  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

being  a  natural  production,  could  not  possibly  tell  lies 
whereas  a  steel  pen,  as  an  artificial  contrivance,  could 
not  be  depended  on  for  veracity ;  wherefore,  in  all  law 
proceedings,  even  at  the  lowest  police  court,  quill  pens 
only  could  be  used,  for  the  law  on  morality  and  public 
policy  grounds  strongly  objects  to  lies  ;  it  is  itself  so 
truthful  !  Of  course,  I  believed  all  my  mother  told 
me  ;  children  are  so  easy  of  belief  if  you  only  look 
serious  when  you  tell  them  crammers.  But  I  know  better 
now,  and  crowns  no  longer  represent  to  me  sovereignty, 
nor  wigs  wisdom.  Of  another  delusion,  too,  I  have 
been  cured.  When  I  was  a  young  man  I  was  told  that 
English  law  was  the  perfection  of  human  wisdom.  I 
believed  this  then,  for  I  was  only  a  bigger  child  without 
experience.  But  when  I  arrived  at  years  of  discretion — 
that  is,  when  I  began  to  observe  and  reflect — I  could 
come  to  no  other  conclusion  than  that  the  axiom  of  the 
law's  wisdom  was  a  delusion.  There  are  many  ways  of 
proving  this,  but  one  argument  presents  itself,  which 
renders  all  further  proofs  unnecessary.  Can  a  code 
which  comprises  a  number  of  laws,  the  interpretation 
of  whose  import  is  liable  to  be  declared  by  one  judge 
to  mean  '  Yes,1  whilst  another  as  positively  maintains  it 
means  '  No,'  be  called  the  perfection  of  human  wisdom  ? 
The  ever-growing  frequency  of  appeals  alone  is  sufficient 
to  show  that  the  existing  laws  are  ambiguous  in  expres- 
sion, and  lend  themselves  to  the  idiosyncrasies  of  every 
individual  judge,  which  is  very  far  from  perfection. 
Laws  should  be  as  precise  in  their  definitions  as  mathe- 
matical formulas.  To  substantiate  my  reasoning,  let 
me  quote  an  actual  case :  Some  twelve  or  thirteen  years 
ago,  the   captain  of  a  cargo   steamer  belonging  to  a 


OLD  JUDGES  61 

London  firm,  while  loading  maize  at  Odessa,  signed 
bills  of  lading  which  were  ante-dated.  Between  the 
false  date  and  the  real  one,  a  few  days  after,  of  loading, 
there  was  a  considerable  fall  in  the  price  of  maize,  and 
the  consignees,  who  were  the  sufferers  by  it,  brought  an 
action  against  the  owners  of  the  steamer,  they — the 
consignees — having  discovered  the  ante -dating,  and 
recovered  dC437  damages,  which  the  shipowners  paid. 
On  the  captain's  return  to  England,  he  made  a  claim 
of  J?190  for  wages,  which  claim  was  admitted  by  the 
firm,  but  they  set  up  a  counter-claim  for  the  damages 
they  had  had  to  pay  to  the  consignees,  through  the 
captain's  negligence  and  breach  of  duty  in  signing  the 
ante-dated  bills.  The  case  went  to  trial  before  Mr. 
Justice  Field  and  a  jury,  and  was  decided  in  the  captain's 
favour,  both  as  to  his  wages  and  the  counter-claim.  The 
owners  appealed,  and  the  Divisional  Court,  consisting 
of  Grove,  Denman,  and  Wills,  ordered  the  judgment 
to  be  set  aside,  and  a  new  trial  granted.  The  Appeal 
Court  ordered  the  original  judgment  in  favour  of  the 
captain  to  be  restored.  The  owners  then  took  the  cause 
into  the  House  of  Lords,  where  Lords  Watson,  Black- 
burn, and  Fitzgerald  restored  the  order  of  the  Divisional 
Court  in  favour  of  the  owners,  with  all  the  costs  they 
had  incurred.  Now,  here  was  a  case  of  breach  of  duty 
as  plain  as  it  could  be,  yet  it  took  four  trials,  the  costs 
amounting  to  about  £4<,000,  to  decide  the  question. 
This  is  but  one  of  a  hundred  similar  cases  which  might 
be  cited.  With  what  wisdom  can  laws  be  framed  which 
can  give  rise  to  so  many  judicial  contradictory  decisions? 
And  the  fault  of  this  lies  not  with  the  judges,  but  with 
the  legislators,  whose  only  wisdom  seems  to  consist  in 


62  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

surrounding  plain  matter-of-fact  with  a  network  of 
sophistry,  chicanery,  and  hair-splitting  subtleties — a 
system  which  is  constantly  regretted  by  the  judges 
themselves,  who  are  ever  ready  to  warn  the  public 
against  indulgence  in  litigation,  for  English  judges,  as 
a  rule,  are  straightforward,  honourable  men,  who  are 
inclined  to  take  common-sense  and  impartial  views, 
except  when  a  political  or  theological  bias  gives  a  twist 
to  their  judgment.  Nor  can  it  be  left  out  of  our  con- 
sideration that  men  educated  in  the  legal  schools  of  the 
Inns  of  Court,  and  by  teachers  strongly  impressed  with 
the  dignity  and  importance  of  their  pursuit,  should 
adhere  to  it  with  cast-iron  rigidity,  thus  opposing,  as 
much  as  possible,  the  introduction  of  new,  and  in  their 
estimation,  revolutionary  and  destructive  opinions.  It 
is  due  to  this  adherence  to,  and  maintenance  of,  the 
principles  of  a  barbarous  and  an  arbitrary  regime  that 
the  judges  still  possess  the  tremendous  power  of  com- 
mitting for  contempt  of  court  any  person  who  may 
make  a  remark  displeasing  to  them,  however  innocently 
that  remark  may  have  been  made.  Years  ago  I  defended 
an  action  brought  against  me  by  a  tradesman  for  certain 
goods  he  alleged  he  had  supplied  me  with.  The  action 
was  tried  in  a  County  Court.  The  plaintiff  made  his 
statement,  which  introduced  several  particulars  which 
were  as  new  to  me  as  they  were  false.  But  my  solicitor 
whom  I  had  brought  with  me  could  not  know  they  were 
so.  I  turned  towards  the  judge,  and  stated  that  I  could 
prove  in  two  minutes  that  there  was  not  a  word  of  truth 
in  the  plaintiff's  statements.  But  the  judge  turned 
quite  savagely  towards  me,  saying  : 

'  You  must  not  speak  to  me.     You  have  your  solicitor 
here.'' 


OLD  JUDGES  63 

'  But,'  I  replied,  '  my  solicitor  cannot  know  that  these 
assertions  are  false  P 

'  Be  silent  I1  thundered  the  judge.  '  If  you  say  another 
word  I  shall  commit  you  for  contempt.1 

Of  course  I  said  no  more,  but,  like  the  parrot,  thought 
a  lot.  I  knew  that  a  judge,  a  mere  County  Court  judge, 
who  passes  his  life  amidst  the  most  sordid  and  depressing 
scenes  of  wretchedness,  had  the  power  of  sending  me  to 
prison,  and  to  keep  me  there  till  I  made  the  most  abject 
apology  for  a  speech  which  was  never  intended  to  be 
offensive.  Persons  have  been  kept  in  prison  for  twenty 
years  by  the  mere  order  of  a  judge,  who  was  plaintiff', 
jury,  and  judge  in  every  such  case.  This  is  scarcely  in 
accordance  with  our  ideas  of  justice.  But  this  relic  of 
a  barbarous  age  will  be  abolished  in  time,  as  the  Courts 
of  Doctors'1  Commons,  or  the  Palace  Court,  where  a 
number  of  sleepy  old  gentlemen 

'  Were  sittin'  at  their  ease, 
A-sendin'  of  their  writs  about, 
And  drorin'  in  their  fees,' 

have  been  abolished.  And  there  is  no  doubt  that  our 
modern  judges  are  superior  in  talent,  adroitness,  and 
acuteness  to  those  of  former  days.  They  are  men  of 
high-breeding,  combining  in  their  characteristics  those 
of  the  courtier  and  of  the  lawyer.  Judges  of  the  past 
were  different;  in  fact,  some  of  the  old  judges  were 
noted  for  their  eccentricities.  Lord  Thurlow  was  one 
of  them.  When  he  was  still  an  aspirant  for  forensic 
fame,  he  was  one  evening  at  Nando's  Coffee-house — 
now  a  hairdressers  shop,  opposite  Chancery  Lane,  falsely 
called  the  palace  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Cardinal  Wolsey. 


64  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Arguing  keenly  about  a  celebrated  case  then  before  the 
courts,  he  was  heard  by  some  lawyers,  who  were  so 
pleased  with  his  handling  of  the  matter  that  next  day 
they  appointed  him  junior  counsel,  and  the  cause  won 
him  a  silk  gown.  This  was  in  1754.  It  is  asserted  that 
he  was  singularly  ugly,  and  that  when  his  portrait  was 
shown  to  Lavater,  the  physiognomist  said :  '  Whether 
that  man  is  on  earth  or  in  another  place,  which  shall 
be  nameless,  I  know  not ;  but  wherever  he  is,  he  is  a 
born  tyrant,  and  will  rule  if  he  can.1  And  the  opinion 
thus  formed  was  a  correct  one,  for  Lord  Thurlow  was 
fierce  and  overbearing  as  a  statesman,  and  was  more 
feared  than  any  other  member  of  the  Cabinet.  In  1778 
he  had  become  Lord  Chancellor,  and  been  raised  to  the 
Peerage.  His  ugliness  must  have  been  a  fact,  for  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  had  at  Arundel  Castle  a  fine 
breed  of  owls,  named  one  of  them,  on  account  of  its 
ugliness,  Lord  Thurlow.  Great  fun  was  caused  by  a 
messenger  coming  to  the  Duke  in  the  Lobby  of  the 
House  of  Peers  with  the  news  that  Lord  Thurlow  had 
laid  an  egg. 

In  1785  Lord  Thurlow  purchased  Brockwell  Green 
Farm,  and  other  lands  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Dulwich 
and  Norwood,  and  chose  Knight's  Hill  as  a  suitable  site 
for  a  house.  The  house  was  finished,  but  Lord  Thurlow 
considered  it  too  dear — it  is  said  to  have  cost  ^30,000 
— and  would  never  live  in  it,  but  remained  in  a  smaller 
house,  called  Knight's  Hill  Farm.  As  he  was  coming 
from  the  Queen's  Drawing-room,  a  lady  asked  him 
when  he  was  going  into  his  new  house.  '  Madam,1  he 
replied,  'the  Queen  has  just  asked  me  that  impudent 
question,  and,  as  I  would  not  tell  her,  I  will  not  tell 


OLD  JUDGES  65 

you.1    Both  the  mansion  and  the  farmhouse  disappeared 
long  ago. 

The  romantic  marriage  of  Lord  Eldon,  then  plain 
Mr.  John  Scott,  of  the  Northern  Circuit,  forms  a 
pleasant  episode  in  legal  history.  Bessie  Surtees  was 
the  daughter  of  Aubone  Surtees,  a  banker  and  gentle- 
man of  honourable  descent  at  Newcastle.  Scott  had 
met  and  danced  with  her  at  the  assemblies  in  that  town, 
and  his  pretensions  were  at  first  favoured  by  her  family; 
but  Sir  William  Blackett,  a  patrician  but  aged  suitor, 
presenting  himself,  Bessie  was  urged  to  throw  over  Scott 
and  become  Lady  Blackett.  But  Bessie  was  faithful, 
and  one  night  descended  from  a  window  into  her  lover's 
arms,  and  they  were  married  at  Blackshiels,  North 
Britain.  The  future  Lord  Eldon  came  to  London  with 
his  young  and  pretty  wife,  and  settled  in  a  humble,  small 
house  in  Cursitor  Street.  Their  housekeeping  at  first 
must  have  been  on  a  somewhat  restricted  scale,  for  Lord 
Eldon,  in  after-life,  used  to  relate  that,  in  those  days, 
he  frequently  ran  into  Clare  Market  for  sixpennyworth 
of  sprats.  It  was  probably  owing  to  these  privations 
in  the  early  days  of  their  married  life  that  her  husband 
had  afterwards  to  complain  of  her  stinginess  and  her 
repugnance  to  society.  In  fact,  she  seems  to  have  ruled 
him  rather  sternly,  for  we  read  of  his  often  stealing  into 
the  George  Coffee  House,  at  the  top  of  the  Haymarket, 
to  get  a  pint  of  wine,  as  Lady  Eldon  did  not  permit 
him  to  enjoy  it  in  peace  at  home.  Cyrus  Redding,  who 
tells  us  this,  did  not  like  Eldon  either  as  a  Tory  or  as  a 
man.  '  His  words,1  he  writes,  '  were  no  index  to  his  real 
feelings.  He  had  a  sterile  soul  for  all  things  earthly, 
except  money,  doubts,  and  the  art  of  drawing  briefs."1 

5 


66  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Cyrus  Joy,  who  was  present  at  the  funeral  of  Lord 
Gifford,  who  was  buried  in  the  Rolls  Chapel,  relates 
that  Lord  Eldon  and  Lord  Chief  Justice  Abbott  were 
placed  in  a  pew  by  themselves,  and  that  he  saw  Lord 
Eldon,  who  was  very  shaky  during  the  most  solemn 
part  of  the  service,  touch  the  Chief  Justice,  evidently 
for  his  snuff-box,  for  the  box  was  produced,  and  he  took 
a  large  pinch  of  snuff,  but  the  moment  he  had  taken  it 
he  threw  it  away.  '  I  was  astonished,'  says  Joy,  '  at  the 
deception  practised  by  so  great  a  man,  with  the  grave 
yawning  before  him.1  Whilst  Lord  Eldon  held  the 
Great  Seal,  in  1812,  a  fire  occurred  at  Encombe,  his 
country  seat  in  Dorsetshire.  As  soon  as  it  broke  out, 
Lord  Eldon  buried  the  Seal  in  the  garden  whilst  the 
engine  played  on  the  burning  house.  All  the  men- 
servants  were  helping  to  supply  it  with  water.  '  It  was,1 
wrote  Lord  Eldon,  '  a  very  pretty  sight,  for  all  the  maids 
turned  out  of  their  beds,  and  formed  a  line  from  the 
water  to  the  fire-engine,  handing  the  buckets.  They 
looked  very  pretty,  all  in  their  shifts.1  When  the  fire 
was  subdued,  Lord  Eldon  had  forgotten  where  he  had 
buried  the  Seal,  and  all  the  gardeners  and  maids  who 
had  looked  so  pretty  by  firelight  were  set  to  work  to 
dig  up  the  garden  till  the  Seal  was  found.  Lord  Eldon 
could  be  very  rude  at  times.  He  and  the  Archbishop 
dined  with  George  III.,  when  he  said  :  '  It  is  a  curious 
fact  that  your  Majesty's  Archbishop  and  your  Lord 
Chancellor  married  clandestinely.  I  had  some  excuse, 
certainly,  for  Bessie  Surtees  was  the  prettiest  girl  in 
all  Newcastle ;  but  Mrs.  Sutton  was  always  the  same 
pumpkin-faced  thing  that  she  is  at  present.1  The  King 
was  much  amused,  as  we  are  told. 


OLD  JUDGES  67 

Lord  Eldon's  brother,  Sir  William  Scott,  had  a  strange 
matrimonial   experience.     His    brother   eloped   with    a 
man's   daughter,  and    thus    entered  the  wedded    state 
somewhat  illegally.     Sir  William  may  be  said  to  have 
entered  it,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  legally — that 
is,  as  a  result  of  his  legal  status.     He  and  Lord  Ellen- 
borough  presided  at  the  Old  Bailey  at  the  trial  of  the 
young  Marquis  of  Sligo  for  having,  while  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean, lured  into  his  yacht  two  of  the  King's  sailors, 
for  which  offence  he  was  fined  £5,000,  and  sentenced  to 
four  months'  imprisonment  in  Newgate.     Throughout 
the  trial  his  mother  sat  in  the  court,  hoping  that  her 
presence  would  rouse  in  the  bench  or  the  jury  feelings 
favourable  to  her  son.     When  the  above  sentence  was 
pronounced,  Sir  William  accompanied  it  by  a  long  moral 
jobation  on  the  duties  of  a  citizen.     The  Marchioness 
sent  a  paper  full  of  satirical  thanks  to  Sir  William  for 
his  good  advice  to  her  son.     Sir  William  read  it  as  he 
sat  on  the  bench,  and,  having  looked  towards  the  lady, 
received  from  her  a  glance  and  a  smile  which  sealed  his 
fate.    Within  four  months  he  was  tied  fast  (on  April  10, 
1813)  to  a  voluble,  shrill  termagant,  who  rendered  him 
miserable  and  contemptible.     He  removed  to  his  wife's 
house  in  Grafton   Street,  and,  ever  economical  in  his 
domestic  expenses,  brought  with  him  his  own  door-plate 
from  Doctor's  Commons,  and  placed  it  under  the  pre- 
existing plate  of  Lady  Sligo.     Jekyll,  the   punster  of 
the  day,  condoled  with  Sir  William  at  having  to  '  knock 
under.'     Sir  William  had  the  plates  transposed. 

'  You  see,  I  don't  knock  under  now,'  he  said  to  Jekyll. 
'  Not  now,'  replied  the  punster  ;  '  now  you  knock  up.' 
This  was  said  with  reference  to  his  advanced  age. 

5—2 


68  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Lord  Erskine,  another  famous  judge,  when  dining 
one  day  at  the  house  of  Sir  Ralph  Payne,  afterwards 
Lord  Lavington,  found  himself  so  indisposed  as  to  be 
obliged  to  retire  after  dinner  to  another  room.  When 
he  returned  to  the  company,  Lady  Payne  asked  how  he 
found  himself.  Erskine  took  out  a  piece  of  paper  and 
wrote  on  it : 

1  'Tis  true  I  am  ill,  but  I  cannot  complain, 
For  he  never  knew  pleasure  who  never  knew  Payne.' 

After   he    had    ceased    to   hold    the    Seals    as    Lord 
Chancellor — and  the  time  he  held  the  office  was  one 
year  only — he  met  Captain  Parry  at  dinner,  and  asked 
him  what  he  and  his  crew  lived  on  in  the  Frozen  Sea. 
Parry  replied  that  they  lived  on  seals.     '  And  capital 
things  too,  seals  are,  if  you  only  keep  them  long  enough,'1 
was  Erskine's  reply.     Being  invited  to  attend  the  Minis- 
terial fish  dinner  at  Greenwich  when  he  was  Chancellor, 
'  To  be  sure,"'  he  answered  ;  '  what  would  your  dinner  be 
without  the  Great  Seal  P1    When  Erskine  lived  at  Hamp- 
stead  he  was  asked  at  a  dinner-party  he  attended,  '  The 
soil  is  not  the  best  in  that  part  of  Hampstead  where 
your   seat   is  ?      '  No,1   he   answered,  '  very    bad ;    for 
though  my  grandfather  was  buried  there  as  an  Earl 
near  a  hundred   years  ago,  what  has  sprouted  from  it 
since  but  a  mere  Baron  T     Erskine  married  when  very 
young,  and  had  four  sons  and  four  daughters.     When  a 
widower   and   getting  old    he  married  a  second  time, 
and  his  latter  days  were  passed  in  a  state  bordering  on 
indigence.     He  died  in  1823,  in  poverty.     On  July  17, 
1826,  a  woman,  poorly  dressed,  was  brought  before  the 
Lord  Mayor  by  a  chimney-sweep  as  a  person  deserving 


OLD  JUDGES  69 

assistance.  The  woman,  being  interrogated,  declared 
herself  to  be  Lady  Erskine.  The  Lord  Mayor  con- 
ducted her  into  his  private  room,  where  he  heard  her 
sad  story.  She  had  lived  with  Lord  Erskine  several 
years  before  he  married  her,  which  he  did  in  Scotland, 
whereby  their  children  (four)  were  legitimatized.  His 
death  left  her  destitute,  though  she  had  been  promised 
a  pension  from  Government  of  twelve  shillings  a  week, 
which  had  been  paid  very  irregularly,  and  finally  with- 
drawn altogether,  because  she  would  not  be  parted  from 
her  youngest  child.  The  others  had  been  taken  care  of 
by  Government-.  She  had  for  years  endeavoured  to 
maintain  herself  by  female  labour,  but  now  she  was 
totally  destitute  and  actually  starving.  The  Lord 
Mayor  liberally  supplied  her  present  wants,  and  promised 
to  intercede  for  her  with  Government,  with  what  result 
we  have  been  unable  to  ascertain.  It  was  Mr.  H. 
Erskine,  brother  of  Lord  Erskine,  who,  after  being  pre- 
sented to  Dr.  Johnson  by  Boswell,  slipped  a  shilling 
into  the  latters  hand,  whispering  that  it  was  for  show- 
ing him  his  bear.  Erskine  could  mould  a  jury  at  his 
pleasure,  yet  in  Parliament  he  was  not  successful  as  an 
orator.  But  when  pleading  he  was  always  ready  with 
repartee.  Once,  when  insisting  on  the  validity  of  an 
argument  before  Lord  Mansfield,  the  latter  said  :  '  I 
disproved  it  before  you  were  born  I1  '  Yes,  my  Lord,' 
replied  Erskine,  '  because  I  was  not  born."'  Lord  Erskine 
owned  that  the  most  discreditable  passage  in  his  life  was 
his  becoming  Lord  Chancellor.  Some  other  judges 
seem  to  have  had  no  faith  in  their  own  works.  Lord 
Campbell  was  seated  one  day  next  to  Chief  Baron 
Pollock,  when  they  were  both  Members  of  the  House  of 


70  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Commons,  and  said  :  *  Pollock,  we  lawyers  receive  the 
highest  wages  of  an  infamous  profession.'' 

Sir  Nicholas  Bacon  was  so  learned  in  the  law  that  he 
was  appointed  attorney  in  the  Court  of  Wards,  and 
made  a  Privy  Councillor  and  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal 
under  Elizabeth.  When  the  Queen  visited  him  at 
Redgrave,  she  observed,  alluding  to  his  corpulence,  that 
he  had  built  the  house  too  little  for  himself.  '  Not  so, 
madam,''  he  answered  ;  '  but  your  Majesty  has  made  me 
too  big  for  my  house.1  A  man  was  brought  before  Sir 
Nicholas  accused  of  a  crime  which,  under  the  Draconian 
laws  then  in  force,  involved  the  penalty  of  death.  He 
was  found  guilty,  and,  asked  whether  he  had  anything 
to  say  for  himself,  appealed  to  the  judge's  compassion, 
seeing  that  he  was  a  kind  of  relation  to  him,  his  name 
being  Hogg.  '  True,'  replied  Bacon  ;  '  but  Hog  is  not 
Bacon  till  it's  hung.1  And  hung,  or  hanged,  to  speak 
correctly,  he  was,  and  thus  did  not  save  his  bacon.  But 
the  jest  was  a  cruel  one. 


VII. 
SOME  FAMOUS  LONDON  ACTRESSES. 

~^\ISTANCE  lends  enchantment  to  the  view,  but  the 
*-**  view  frequently  does  not  return  it,  a  common 
practice  with  borrowers  !  Distance  alone  invests 
the  East  with  a  halo  of  romance  and  beauty,  to  which 
it  really  can  lay  no  claim.  The  romance  is  the  inven- 
tion of  Western  imagination,  and  the  beauty,  if  not 
tawdry,  is  monstrous.  In  no  respect  is  this  excess  of 
imagination  over  the  reality  more  apparent  than  in  the 
eidolon  the  European  forms  in  his  mind  of  Eastern 
female  beauty.  He  hears  or  reads  of  houris,  and  nautch- 
girls,  and  bayaderes,  and  the  dancing- women  of  Japan 
and  Burmah  ;  but  if  ever  he  sees  any  of  them  he  will  be 
disenchanted,  for  awkward  figures  they  are,  wrapped  up 
in  clothes  like  so  many  sacks,  twisted  and  tied  over  one 
another — if  not  old,  at  least  middle-aged  women  with 
rings  in  their  noses.  Pooh  !  enough  of  them  !  The 
real  beauties  the  European  never  gets  a  sight  of,  they 
are  shut  up  in  harems.  But  still  he  thinks  the  East  the 
region  of  beauty,  and  longs  for  it,  even  when  he  sees 
beauty  in  perfection  in  the  West,  where  alone  it  is  to 
be  found,  because  in  Western  lands  alone  physical  and 


72  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

intellectual  or  perfect  beauty  exists  in  combination. 
And  this  combination  is  most  frequently  seen,  as  may 
be  surmised  from  the  nature  of  her  avocation,  in  the 
actress.  Women  first  appeared  on  the  English  stage  in 
1660.  On  December  6  in  that  year,  at  the  perform- 
ance of  '  Othello ,  at  the  Duke's  Theatre,  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields,  the  prologue  spoken  is  entitled  :  '  A  prologue  to 
introduce  the  first  woman  that  came  to  act  on  the 
stage.'  Pepys  went  to  see  '  The  Beggar's  Bush '  at  the 
same  theatre  on  January  3,  1661,  and  reports  :  '  Here 
the  first  time  that  ever  I  saw  a  woman  come  upon  the 
stage.'  But  the  Queen  had  long  before  then,  namely, 
in  1633,  acted  in  a  pastoral  given  at  Court.  The  prac- 
tice having,  however,  been  introduced  at  the  Duke's 
Theatre,  was  continued,  to  the  disgust  of  moralists,  who 
looked  upon  the  '  enormous  shamefulness '  of  female 
acting  as  a  sinful  practice.  Even  the  intelligent  and 
generally  liberal-minded  Evelyn  speaks  of  the  drama  as 
abused  to  '  an  atheistical  liberty,'  by  the  circumstance 
of  women  being  suffered  to  become  performers.  In  his 
Diary,  October  18,  1666,  he  writes:  'This  night  was 
acted  my  Lord  Broghill's  tragedy,  called  "  Mustapha," 
before  their  Majesties  at  Court,  at  which  I  was  present, 
very  seldom  going  to  the  public  theatres  for  many 
reasons  now,  as  they  were  abused  to  an  atheistical 
liberty,  foul  and  indecent  women  now  (and  never  till 
now)  permitted  to  appear  and  act,  who,  inflaming  several 
young  noblemen  and  gallants,  became  their  misses,  and 
to  some  their  wives,  witness  ye  Earl  of  Oxford,  Sir  R. 
Howard,  P.  Rupert,  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  and  another 
greater  person  than  any  of  them,  who  fell  into  their 
snares,  to  ye  reproach  of  their  noble  families,  and  ruin 


SOME  FAMOUS  LONDON  ACTRESSES      73 

of  both  body  and  soul.1  By  '  another  greater  person,1 
Evelyn  no  doubt  intended  the  King  himself,  Charles  II., 
who  had  at  least  three  avowed  mistresses  taken  from  the 
stage — Madam  Davis,  Mrs.  Knight,  and  Nell  Gwynne. 
Miss  Davis  was,  according  to  Pepys,  a  natural  daughter 
of  the  Earl  of  Berkshire.  He  went  to  see  her  perform 
on  March  7,  1666,  in  'The  English  Princess,1  and 
'  little  Miss  Davis  did  dance  a  jigg  after  the  end  of  the 
play,  and  there  telling  the  next  day's  play,  so  that  it 
came  in  by  force  only  to  see  her  dance  in  boy's  clothes.1 
Mrs.  Knight  was  a  famous  singer.  Kneller  painted  her 
portrait.  Of  Nell  Gwynne  we  shall  have  occasion  to 
speak  further  on.  At  the  same  theatre  Mrs.  Daven- 
port, the  lady  who  played  the  part  of  Roxalana  in 
'The  Siege  of  Rhodes,1  was  taken  to  be  the  Earl  of 
Oxford's  misse,  as  at  this  time  they  began  to  call  lewd 
women,  as  Evelyn  says.  But  Evelyn  evidently  was 
badly  informed.  Mrs.  Davenport  for  a  long  time  refused 
the  Earl  of  Oxford's  presents  and  overtures,  but,  on  his 
offering  to  marry  her,  she  consented.  The  ceremony 
was  performed,  and  they  lived  together  for  some  time, 
and  then  the  Earl  informed  her  that  the  marriage  was  a 
sham,  and  that  the  mock  parson  was  one  of  his  trum- 
peters. In  vain  the  deluded  woman  appealed  to  the 
laws,  in  vain  she  threw  herself  at  the  King's  feet  to 
demand  justice.  She  might  consider  herself  lucky  to 
obtain  a  pension  of  i?300.  Pepys  saw  her  afterwards  at 
the  theatre,  and  says :  '  Saw  the  old  Roxalana  in  the 
chief  box,  in  a  velvet  gown,  as  the  fashion  is,  and  very 
handsome,  at  which  I  was  glad.1 

Moll  Davies  was  another  of  the  King's  favourites,  and 
he  is  said  to  have  fallen  in  love  with  her  through  her 


74  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

singing  '  My  Lodging  is  on  the  Cold  Ground '  in  '  The 
Rivals,1  a  play  altered  by  Davenant  from  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  '  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen.1  Pepys  frequently 
mentions  her  as  a  rival  to  Nell  Gwynne.  She  had  one 
daughter  by  Charles,  who  was  christened  Mary  Tudor, 
and  was  married  in  1687  to  the  son  of  Sir  Francis 
Ratcliff,  who  became  Earl  of  Derwentwater.  When  the 
King  grew  tired  of  her  he  settled  a  pension  on  her  of 
J?1,000  a  year.  It  was  as  a  descendant  of  this  Earl 
that  the  lady  who  called  herself  Amelia,  Countess  of 
Derwentwater,  in  1868  took  possession  of  the  old 
baronial  castle  of  Devilstone,  or  Dilston,  claiming  it 
and  the  estates  belonging  thereto,  but  then  and  now 
vested  in  Greenwich  Hospital,  as  hers.  But  the  Lords 
of  the  Admiralty,  in  1870,  defeated  her  claim,  and  she 
disappeared  from  public  view. 

Another  famous  actress  in  the  days  of  Charles  II.  was 
Margaret  Hughes,  of  whom  Prince  Rupert  became 
enamoured.  At  first  she  pretended  to  be  fiercely 
virtuous,  so  as  to  secure  a  higher  price  for  her  favours. 
And,  in  fact,  the  Prince  settled  on  her  Brandenburgh 
House,  near  Hammersmith,  in  which  she  lived  about 
ten  years.  The  house  afterwards  became  the  residence 
of  Queen  Caroline,  who  died  there,  shortly  after  which 
it  was  demolished. 

Whatever  may  be  said  against  women  appearing  on 
the  stage,  there  is  something  more  repulsive  in  men  and 
boys  taking  female  parts  in  a  play,  at  least,  so  it  seems 
to  our  moral  feelings,  and  aesthetically  the  practice  is 
still  more  objectionable.  Male  performers  can  never 
represent  the  spontaneous  grace,  melting  voice,  and 
tender  looks  of  a  female,  and  the  ludicrous  contretemps 


SOME  FAMOUS  LONDON  ACTRESSES      75 

the  custom  frequently  caused  further  showed  its  ab- 
surdity. Thus,  on  one  occasion,  Charles  II.  inquired 
why  the  commencement  of  the  play  was  delayed.  The 
manager  stepped  forward  and  craved  his  Majesty's 
indulgence,  as  the  queen  was  not  yet  shaved.  And 
whatever  Prynne  might  say  in  his  '  Histrio  Mastix , 
against  female  actors,  the  practice  caught  on  and 
became  general.  Of  course,  the  opposition  did  not 
cease  at  once ;  even  in  France  it  raised  its  head  as  late 
as  1733.  A  speaker  against  the  stage  spoke  thus  at  the 
Jesuits1  College  in  Paris  :  '  They  (the  actresses)  do  not 
form  the  deadly  shafts  of  Cupid,  but  they  level  them 
with  the  eye,  and  shoot  with  the  utmost  dexterity  and 
skill.  Such  women  I  mean  as  represent  destructive  love 
characters.  .  .  .  How  artfully  do  they  hurl  the  most 
inconsiderable  dart !  What  multitudes  are  wounded  by 
a  single  one  I1  And,  indeed,  what  multitudes  have  our 
Nancy  Oldfields,  Bracegirdles,  Gwynnes,  Kitty  Gives, 
Perditas,  Meltons,  and  the  whole  galaxy  of  theatrical 
beauties  not  only  wounded,  but  conquered,  and  some- 
times killed ! 

The  life  of  an  actress  had  many  ups  and  downs — as  it 
has  now — in  former  days.  There  was  the  eccentric 
Charlotte  Charke,  daughter  of  Colley  Cibber,  who  for 
some  mysterious  reason  for  many  years  went  in  male 
attire,  and  who  acted  on  the  stage  if  she  could  get 
employment.  There  was  then  in  Bear  Yard,  Clare 
Market,  a  theatre,  occasionally  used  as  a  tennis-court 
and  as  an  auction-room.  '  Thither,''  she  says  in  her 
Memoirs,  '  I  adventured  to  see  if  there  was  any  character 
wanting — a  custom  very  frequent  among  the  gentry 
who    exhibited    in    that    slaughter-house    of   dramatic 


76  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

poetry.  One  night,  I  remember,  the  "Recruiting 
Officer"  was  to  be  performed.  .  .  .  To  my  unbounded 
joy  Captain  Plume  was  so  unfortunate  that  he  came  at 
five  o'clock  to  say  that  he  did  not  know  a  word  of  his 
part.  .  .  .  The  question  being  put  to  me,  I  immediately 
replied  that  I  could  do  such  a  thing,  but  was  .  .  . 
resolved  to  stand  upon  terms  .  .  .  one  guinea  paid  in 
advance,  which  terms  were  complied  with.1 

We  mentioned  above  that  the  life  of  an  actress  has 
many  ups  and  downs  even  now.  In  justification  of  that 
statement  let  us  quote  from  the  Star  of  September  12, 
1S96  :  '  A  pathetic  story  of  an  aged  lady,  who  had  been 
a  popular  actress,  but  upon  whom  evil  days  had  come, 
and  who  was  found  dead  in  a  poorly-furnished  bedroom 
in  a  third-floor  back  at  Whitfield  Street,  Tottenham 
Court  Road,  was  told  yesterday  to  the  coroner.  The 
old  lady  was  Louisa  Marshall,  aged  seventy,  sister  of  a 
celebrated  clown  at  Drury  Lane,  who  died  before  her. 
She  used  to  teach  the  piano,  and  had  a  small  pension 
from  the  Musical  and  Dramatic  Sick  Fund.  The 
contents  of  her  room,  an  old  piano  and  some  theatrical 
dresses,  were  said  to  be  worth  fifty  shillings  at  most.'' 
But,  as  Byron  says,  let  us  lay  this  sheet  of  sorrow  on 
the  shelf,  and  speak  of  lively,  joyous  Nell  Gwynne,  who 
drove  that  amorous  Pepys  nearly  mad.  His  Diary  is 
full  of  her.  First  she  is  simply  'pretty,  witty  Nell' 
(April  3, 1 665).  On  January  23, 1666,  Nelly  is  brought 
to  him  in  a  box  at  the  theatre.  '  A  most  pretty 
woman.  ...  I  kissed  her,  and  so  did  my  wife,  and  a 
mighty  pretty  soul  she  is.1  On  March  2,  in  the  same 
year,  'Nell  .  .  .  comes  in  like  a  young  gallant,  and 
hath  the  motions  and  carriage  of  a  spark  the  most  that 


SOME  FAMOUS  LONDON  ACTRESSES      77 

ever  I  saw   any  man  have.      It  makes  me,   I   confess, 
admire  her.''     On  May  1,  1667,  he  writes:  'To  West- 
minster.    In  the  way  many  milkmaids  with  their  gar- 
lands  upon   their  pails,  dancing  with  a  fiddler  before 
them,  and  saw  pretty  Nelly  standing  at  her  lodging's 
door  in  Drury  Lane,  in  her  smock  sleeves  and  bodice, 
looking  upon  one.     She  seemed  a  mighty  pretty  crea- 
ture.1 But,  according  to  her  ardent  admirer,  this  '  mighty 
pretty  creature '  could  use  mighty  strong  language  too, 
for  he  says  of  her  (October  5,  1667) :  '  But  to  see  how 
Nell  cursed  for  having  so  few  people  in  the  pit  was 
strange.''     And    again,    on    October    26,    he   reports : 
'  Nelly  and   Beck  Marshall  (one  of  the  great  Presby- 
terian's daughters)  falling  out  the  other  day,  the  latter 
called  the  other  my  Lord  Buckhurst's  mistress.     Nell 
answered  her :  "  I  was  but  one  man's  mistress,  though  I 
was  brought  up  in  a  disreputable  house  to  fill  strong 
waters  to  the  gentlemen,  and  you  are  a  mistress  to  three 
or  four,  though  a  Presbyter's  praying  daughter." '    And 
Nell  may  have  been  right,  for  Beck  Marshall  seems  to 
have  been  a  trifle  fast.     Pepys  says,  on  May  2,  1668  : 
'  To  the  King's  (play)  house,  where  .  .  .  the  play  being 
over,  I  did  see  Beck   Marshall    come    dressed   off  the 
stage,  and  look  mighty  fine  and  pretty,  and  noble  ;  and 
also   Nell,  in  her  boy's  clothes,  mighty   pretty.     But, 
Lord  !  their  confidence,  and  how  many  men  do  hover 
about  them  as  soon  as  they  come  off  the  stage,  and  how 
confident  they  are  in  their  talk  !'     Pepys,  in  the  end, 
seems  to  have  cooled  in  his  devotion  to  pretty  Nell,  for 
on  January  7,  1669,  he  wrote  in  his  Diary  :  '  My  wife 
and  I  to  the  King's  play-house.  .  .  .     We  sat  in  an 
upper  box,  and  the  jade  Nell  came  and  sat  in  the  next 


78  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

box,  a  bold,  merry  slut,  who  lay  laughing  there  upon 
people,  and  with  a  comrade  of  hers,  of  the  Duke's  house, 
that  came  in  to  see  the  play.1 

Coal  Yard,  Drury  Lane,  seems  to  have  been  Nell 
Gwynne's  birthplace,  a  low,  disreputable  locality,  and  she 
died  in  a  fine  house  on  the  south  side  of  Pall  Mall. 
Previously  to  that,  she  had  lived  in  a  house  on  the  north 
side,  whose  site  is  now  occupied  by  the  Army  and  Navy 
Club.  Though  Drury  Lane  in  the  days  of  Nell  Gwynne 
was  a  fashionable  locality,  it  would  seem  that  only  to 
the  southern  division  this  epithet  could  be  applied ;  the 
northern  end,  towards  Holborn,  had  a  low  and  mean 
character,  and  Coal  Yard  consisted  of  miserable  tene- 
ments. It  has  recently  been  rebuilt,  and  is  now  called 
Goldsmith  Street.  Nell  Gwynne  died  in  1691,  and  was 
pompously  interred  in  the  parish  church  of  St.  Martins- 
in-the-Fields,  Dr.  Tennison,  the  then  Vicar,  and  after- 
wards Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  preaching  her  funeral 
sermon.  This  sermon  was  afterwards  brought  forward 
at  Court  to  impede  the  doctor's  preferment ;  but  Queen 
Mary,  having  heard  the  objection,  answered:  'Well, 
what  then  ?  This  I  have  heard  before,  and  it  is  a  proof 
that  the  unfortunate  woman  died  a  true  penitent,  who 
through  the  course  of  her  life  never  let  the  wretched 
ask  in  vain.1  This  was  certainly  as  noble  an  answer  to 
give  on  the  part  of  a  Queen  as  it  was  mean  on  the  part 
of  King  Charles  II.  to  say  on  his  deathbed  :  '  Don't  let 
poor  Nelly  starve.1  Was  it  not  in  his  power  to  make 
provision  for  her,  instead  of  leaving  her  to  the  charity 
of  the  world  ? 

Another  both  fortunate  and  unfortunate  actress  was 
Mrs.  Montford,  whose  husband  was  murdered  as  he  had 


SOME  FAMOUS  LONDON  ACTRESSES      79 

come  to  escort  Mrs.  Bracegirdle,  after  Captain  Hill's 
attempt  at  abducting  this  lady,  on  her  leaving  the 
theatre,  of  which  more  hereafter.  On  Mrs.  Montford, 
or  Mountfort — the  name  is  found  spelt  both  ways — 
Gray  wrote  his  ballad  of  '  Black-eyed  Susan.'  Lord 
Berkeley's  partiality  for  her  was  so  great  that  at  his 
decease  he  left  her  dP300  a  year,  on  condition  that  she 
did  not  many  ;  he  also  purchased  Cowley,  near  Uxbridge, 
for  her — the  place  had  been  the  summer  residence  of 
Rich,  the  actor — and  from  time  to  time  made  her 
presents  of  considerable  sums.  She  fell  in  love  with  a 
Mr.  Booth,  a  then  well-known  actor,  but,  not  wishing 
to  lose  her  annuity,  she  did  not  many  him,  though  she 
gave  him  the  preference  over  many  others  of  her  suitors. 
Mrs.  Montford  had  an  intimate  friend,  Miss  Santlow,  a 
celebrated  dancer ;  but,  through  the  liberality  of  one  of 
her  admirers,  she  became  possessed  of  a  fortune,  which 
rendered  her  independent  of  the  stage,  upon  which 
Mr.  Booth  proposed  to  her,  and  was  accepted.  This  so 
affected  Mrs.  Montford  that  she  became  mentally 
deranged,  and  was  brought  from  Cowley  to  London  to 
have  the  best  advice.  As  she  was  not  violent  and  had 
lucid  moments,  she  was  not  rigorously  confined,  but 
suffered  to  go  about  the  house.  One  day  she  asked  her 
attendant  what  play  was  to  be  performed  that  evening, 
and  was  told  it  was  '  Hamlet.'  In  this  piece,  whilst  she 
was  on  the  stage,  she  had  always  appeared  as  Ophelia. 
The  recollection  struck  her,  and  with  the  cunning  always 
allied  with  insanity,  she  found  means  to  elude  the 
watchfulness  of  her  servants,  and  to  reach  the  theatre, 
where  she  concealed  herself  till  the  time  when  Ophelia 
was  to  appear,  when  she  rushed  on  the  stage,  pushing 


80  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  lady  who  was  to  act  the  character  aside,  and  ex- 
hibited a  more  perfect  representation  of  madness  than 
the  most  consummate  mimic  art  could  produce.  She 
was,  in  truth,  Ophelia  herself,  the  very  incarnation  of 
madness.  Nature  having  made  this  last  effort,  her  vital 
powers  failed  her.  On  going  off,  she  prophetically 
exclaimed  :  '  It  is  all  over  V  As  she  was  being  conveyed 
home,  '  she,"  in  Gray's  words,  '  like  a  lily  drooping, 
bowed  her  head  and  died.1 

Lovely  Nancy  Oldfield,  who  quitted  the  bar  of  the 
Mitre,  in  St.  James's  Market,  then  kept  by  her  aunt, 
Mrs.  Voss,  became,  towards  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  the  great  attraction  at  Drury  Lane.  Her 
intimacy  with  General  Churchill,  cousin  of  the  great 
Duke  of  Marlborough,  obtained  for  her  a  grave  in  West- 
minster Abbey.  Persons  of  rank  and  distinction  con- 
tended for  the  honour  of  bearing  her  pall,  and  her 
remains  lay  in  state  for  three  days  in  the  Jerusalem 
Chamber ! 

We  referred  above  to  the  attempt  made  by  Captain 
Hill  to  carry  off  Mrs.  Bracegirdle.  Hill  had  offered 
her  his  hand  and  had  been  refused.  He  determined  to 
abduct  her  by  force.  He  induced  his  friend  Lord 
Mahun  to  assist  him.  A  coach  was  stationed  near  the 
Horseshoe  Tavern  in  Drury  Lane,  with  six  soldiers  to 
force  her  into  it,  which  they  attempted  to  do  as  she 
came  down  Drury  Lane  about  ten  o'clock  at  night, 
accompanied  by  her  mother  and  brother,  and  a  friend, 
Mr.  Page.  The  attempt  was  resisted,  a  crowd  collected, 
and  Hill  ordered  the  soldiers  to  let  the  lady  go,  and  she 
was  escorted  home  by  her  friends.  She  then  sent  for 
her  friend  Mr.  Montford,  who  soon  after  turned    the 


SOME  FAMOUS  LONDON  ACTRESSES      81 

corner  of  Norfolk  Street,  where  Hill  challenged  him,  as 
he  attributed  Mrs.  Bracegirdle's  rejection  of  him  to 
her  love  for  Montford,  which  suspicion,  however,  was 
groundless,  and  ran  him  through  the  body  before  he 
could  draw  his  sword.  Hill  made  his  escape  ;  Montford 
died  from  his  wounds. 

Even  in  more  recent  days  actresses  have  made  good 
matches.  Miss  Anna  Maria  Tree,  of  Covent  Garden, 
in  1825  married  James  Bradshaw,  of  Grosvenor  Place ; 
in  1831,  Miss  Foote,  the  celebrated  actress,  became 
Countess  of  Harrington ;  Miss  Farren,  Countess  of 
Derby  ;  Miss  Brunton,  Countess  of  Craven  ;  Miss  Bolton 
became  Lady  Thurlow ;  Miss  O'Neill  married  a  baronet ; 
Miss  Kitty  Stephens  became  Countess  of  Essex ;  Miss 
Campion  was  taken  off  the  stage  by  the  aged  Duke  of 
Devonshire.  The  list  might  be  greatly  extended,  even 
to  our  own  times ;  but  the  instances  quoted  are  suf- 
ficient to  show  the  prizes  ladies  may  draw  in  the 
theatrical  matrimonial  lottery  ;  and  there  are  as  good 
fish  in  the  sea  as  ever  came  out  of  it. 


VIII. 

QUEER  CLUBS  OF  FORMER  DAYS. 

THE  Virtuoso  Club  was  established  by  some 
members  of  the  Royal  Society,  and  held  its 
meetings  at  a  tavern  in  Cornhill.  Its  professed 
object  was  to  '  advance  mechanical  exercises,  and  pro- 
mote useful  experiments ' ;  but,  according  to  Ned  Ward, 
their  discussions  usually  ended  in  a  general  shindy,  and 
results  not  to  be  described  by  a  modern  writer.  The 
club  claimed  the  merit  of  the  invention  of  the  barometer; 
but,  for  all  that,  its  proceedings  afforded  fine  sport  to 
the  satirists  :  thus,  the  members  were  said  to  aim  at 
making  beer  without  water,  living  like  princes  on  three- 
halfpence  a  day,  producing  a  table  by  which  a  husband 
may  discover  all  the  particulars  of  the  tricks  his  wife 
may  play  him.  The  ridicule  showered  on  the  club  at 
last  reduced  it  to  a  little  cynical  cabal  of  half-pint 
moralists,  who  continued  to  meet  at  the  same  tavern. 
Convivial ly-disposed  members  of  other  learned  societies 
have  occasionally  formed  themselves  into  clubs.  Thus 
some  antiquaries,  many  years  since,  formed  a  club  styled 
*  Noviomagians.'     Mr.  Crofton  Croker  was  its  president 


QUEER  CLUBS  OF  FORMER  DAYS   83 

more  than  twenty  years,  and  many  other  distinguished 
men  were  members. 

A  number  of  roistering  companions  used  to  hold  a 
club  at  the  Golden  Fleece  in  Cornhill,  after  which  they 
named  their  club.  Each  member  on  his  admission  had 
a  characteristic  name  assigned  to  him — as  Sir  Nimmy 
Sneer,  Sir  Talkative  Do-little,  Sir  Rumbus  Rattle. 
They  eventually  adjourned  to  the  Three  Tuns,  South- 
ward 

The  No-Nose  Club,  whether  it  ever  existed  or  not, 
was  a  horrible  idea  in  itself ;  it  flourished  only  during 
the  lifetime  of  its  founders. 

The  Club  of  Beaus  was  what  its  name  implies — a  club 
of  fops  and  idiots.  The  only  merit  they  seem  to  have 
had  was  that  their  habits  were  always  scrupulously 
clean,  though  their  language  usually  was  filthy.  Their 
meetings  were  held  at  an  inn  in  Covent  Garden. 

The  Quacks''  Club,  or  Physical  Society,  was  really 
an  offshoot  of  the  College  of  Physicians,  which  met 
at  a  tavern  near  the  Exchange,  where  they  discussed 
medical  matters.  The  College  of  Physicians  at  that 
time  was  in  Warwick  Lane,  where  it  remained  till 
removed,  in  1825,  to  Trafalgar  Square. 

The  Weekly  Dancing  Club,  or  Buttock  Ball,  was  held 
at  a  tavern  in  King  Street,  St.  Giles,  and  was  patronized 
by  bullies,  libertines,  and  strumpets  ;  footmen  who  had 
robbed  their  masters  and  turned  gentlemen ;  chamber- 
maids who  had  stolen  their  mistresses'1  clothes  and  set 
up  for  gentlewomen.  Though  called  a  club,  it  was  not 
really  a  close  assembly,  but  everyone  was  admitted  on 
the  payment  of  sixpence,  and  no  questions  asked.  The 
Dancing  Academy  was  first  established  about  the  year 

6—2 


84  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

1710  by  a  dancing-master  over  the  Coal  Yard  gateway 
into  Drury  Lane,  and  was  so  successful  that  it  was 
removed  to  the  more  commodious  premises  mentioned 
above.  But  at  last  it  became  such  a  nuisance  that  the 
authorities  shut  it  up.  The  Coal  Yard  above  men- 
tioned, the  last  turning  on  the  north-east  side  of  Drury 
Lane,  is  said  to  have  been  the  birthplace  of  Nell 
Gwynne. 

A  club  cultivating  a  certain  filthy  habit,  which  I  can 
only  indicate  as  one  practised  by  the  French  peasantry, 
and  as  described  in  one  of  Zola's  novels,  was  established 
at  a  public-house  in  Cripplegate.  The  manner  in  which 
the  proceedings  of  the  club  are  set  forth  by  their 
chronicler  is  as  hideous  and  repulsive  as  the  writer  can 
make  it ;  it  could  not  be  reproduced  in  any  modern 
publication  without  risk  of  prosecution,  which,  indeed, 
would  be  well  deserved.  But  the  manners  of  the 
eighteenth  century  were  excessively  coarse. 

The  Man-Killing  Club,  besides  admitting  no  one  to 
membership  who  had  not  killed  his  man,  also  bound 
itself  to  resist  the  Sheriff's  myrmidons  on  their  making 
any  attempt  to  serve  a  writ  on  or  seize  one  of  them.  It 
was  founded  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  by  a  knot  of 
bullies,  broken  Life-Guardsmen,  and  old  prize-fighters. 
Its  meetings  were  held  at  a  low  public-house  on  the 
back-side  of  St.  Clement's.     The  good  old  times  ! 

The  Surly  Club  was  chiefly  composed  of  master 
carmen,  lightermen,  and  Billingsgate  porters,  who  held 
their  weekly  meetings  at  a  tavern  near  Billingsgate 
Dock,  where  City  dames  used  to  treat  their  journeymen 
with  beakers  of  punch  and  new  oysters.  The  object  of 
their  meetings  was  the  practice  of  contradiction  and  of 


QUEER  CLUBS  OF  FORMER  DAYS        85 

foul  language,  that  they  might  not  want  impudence  to 
abuse  passengers  on  the  Thames.  This  society  first 
established  the  thumping  -  post  at  Billingsgate,  to 
harden  its  members  by  whipping  never  to  bridle  their 
tongues  from  fear  of  corporeal  punishment.  Billings- 
gate language  was,  as  may  be  supposed,  much  improved 
by  them. 

The  Atheistical  Club  met  at  an  inn  in  Westminster, 
and  its  name  sufficiently  indicates  its  object,  namely,  to 
take  the  devil's  part.  A  trick  was  played  on  them  by 
a  man  disguising  himself  in  a  bear's  skin  and  making 
them  believe  he  was  the  devil,  which  occurrence,  it  is 
said,  broke  up  the  club.  Similar  societies  were  dis- 
covered in  Wells  Street,  and  at  the  Angel,  in  St.  Martin's 
Lane,  and  the  members  arrested  ;  but,  it  turning  out 
that  in  these  cases  the  devil  was  less  black  than  he  was 
painted,  the  charges  against  them  had  to  be  withdrawn. 
The  societies,  in  fact,  were  more  political,  with  republican 
tendencies,  inspired  by  the  French  Revolution,  which 
was  just  then  at  its  height,  and  the  worship  of  Reason 
seems  to  have  been  one  of  their  principles. 

The  Split-farthing  Club  held  its  weekly  meetings  at 
the  Queen's  Head  in  Bishopsgate  Street,  and  was  sup- 
posed to  be  composed  chiefly  of  misers  and  skinflints. 
If  any  smoker  among  them  left  his  box  behind  him, 
and  wanted  to  borrow  a  pipe  of  tobacco  of  a  brother,  it 
would  not  be  lent  without  a  note  of  hand,  which  was 
generally  written  round  the  bowl  of  a  pipe  so  as  to 
prevent  the  waste  of  paper. 

The  Club  of  Broken  Shopkeepers  held  its  meetings  at 
the  sign  of  Tumble-Down  Dick,  a  famous  boozing  den 
in  the  Mint  in  Southwark,  a  sanctuary  of  knaves,  sots, 


86  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

and  bankrupts,  honest  or  swindling,  against  arrest  for 
debt.  The  sign  of  Tumble-Down  Dick  was  set  up  in 
derision  of  Richard  Cromwell,  the  allusion  to  his  fall 
from  power,  or  '  tumble-down,"*  being  very  common  in 
the  satires  published  after  the  Restoration.  There  was 
a  house  with  the  same  sign  at  Brentford.  Of  course, 
the  professed  object  of  the  meetings  of  the  broken  shop- 
keepers was  that  of  driving  away  and  forgetting  care ; 
and  any  new-comer  among  them,  if  he  had  any  cash 
left,  was  liberally  allowed  to  expend  it  for  the  further- 
ance of  the  club's  object. 

The  Man-Hunting  Club  was  composed  chiefly  of  young 
limbs  of  the  law  ;  uncultivated  youths,  though  they  were 
law  students,  formed  themselves  into  an  association  to 
hunt  men  over  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  and  the  neighbour- 
hood whom  they  might  happen  to  meet  crossing  them 
at  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  at  night.  They  would  be  con- 
cealed upon  the  grass  in  one  of  the  borders  of  the  fields 
till  they  heard  some  single  person  coming  along,  when 
they  would  spring  up  with  their  swords  drawn,  run 
towards  him,  and  cry :  '  That's  he ;  bloody  wounds, 
that's  he !'  Usually  the  person  so  attacked  would  run 
away,  when  they  would  pursue  him  till  he  took  refuge 
in  an  alehouse  in  some  neighbouring:  street.  But  if  the 
man-hunters  encountered  a  person  of  courage,  ready  to 
fight  them,  they  would  sneak  off,  like  the  curs  they 
really  were.  Their  meeting-place  was  at  a  tavern  close 
to  Bear  Yard,  Clare  Market. 

The  Yorkshire  Club  held  its  meetings  on  market-days 
at  an  inn  in  Smithfield.  It  was  composed  of  sharp 
country-folk,  who  assumed  the  innocence  of  yokels. 
The  most   flourishing  members  among  them,  says  one 


QUEER  CLUBS  OF  FORMER  DAYS        87 

authority,  were  needle-pointed  innkeepers;  nick  and 
froth  victuallers,  honest  horse  chaunters,  pious  Yorkshire 
attorneys  ;  the  rest  good,  harmless  master  hostlers,  two 
or  three  innocent  farriers,  who  had  wormed  their  masters 
out  of  their  shops,  and  themselves  into  them.  When 
met  for  business,  their  deliberations  were  about  horse- 
flesh, blind  eyes,  spavins,  bounders  and  malinders,  and 
how  to  disguise  defects  and  get  rid  of  the  animals. 

The  Mock-Heroes  Club  met  at  an  alehouse  in  Bald- 
win's Gardens,  and  was  composed  chiefly  of  attorneys1 
clerks  and  young  shopkeepers.  On  admission  the  new 
member  assumed  the  name  of  some  defunct  hero,  and 
ever  afterwards  was  at  the  meetings  called  by  that  name ; 
and  as  the  club  held  its  meetings  in  the  public  room, 
though  at  a  separate  table  specially  reserved  for  them, 
this  formal  and  ridiculous  way  of  addressing  one  another 
caused  no  slight  amusement  to  the  other  persons  fre- 
quenting the  room.  In  other  respects  their  language 
was  high-flown.  Thus,  one  would  face  about  to  his 
left-hand  neighbour,  with  his  right  hand  charged  with 
a  brimming  tankard,  saying  :  '  Most  noble  Scipio,  the 
love  and  friendship  of  a  soldier  to  you.  The  thanks  of 
a  brother  to  my  valiant  friend  Hannibal,  whom  I  cannot 
but  value,  though  I  had  the  honour  to  conquer.'1  '  My 
respects  to  you,  brave  Caesar,1  cries  one  opposite,  *  re- 
membering the  battle  of  Pharsalia.1  And  so  on,  till 
they  had  drunk  themselves  under  the  table. 

The  Lying  Club,  which  held  its  meetings  at  the  Bell 
Tavern,  in  Westminster,  is  said  to  have  been  established 
in  1669.  Every  member  was  to  wear  a  blue  cap  with  a 
red  feather  in  it ;  before  admittance  he  had  to  give 
proof  of  his  powers  of  mendaciloquence  ;  during  club 


88  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

hours,  that  is,  from  four  to  ten  p.m.,  no  true  word  was 
to  be  uttered  without  a  preliminary  '  By  your  leave '  to 
the  chairman  ;  and  if  any  member  told  a  '  whopper ' 
which  the  chairman  could  not  beat  with  a  greater,  the 
latter  had  to  surrender  his  office  for  that  evening.  Ned 
Ward  gives  some  exquisite  specimens  of  the  '  whoppers , 
told  by  members. 

The  Beggars'  Club  held  its  weekly  meetings  at  a 
boozing  ken  in  Old  Street.  All  the  sham  cripples, 
blind  men,  etc.,  belonged  to  it,  and  there  discussed  the 
various  stratagems  they  had  adopted  to  excite  public 
compassion,  or  intended  to  adopt  for  that  purpose. 

About  1735  a  number  of  young  gentlemen,  who  were 
pretenders  to  wit,  formed  themselves  into  a  society, 
which  met  at  the  Rose  Tavern,  Covent  Garden,  and 
which  they  christened  the  Scatter-wit  Society.  But 
their  literary  performances  were  poor  specimens  of  wit, 
contributed  nothing  to  the  reputation  of  the  Rose 
Tavern  as  the  resort  of  '  men  of  parts,1  and  con- 
sequently is  not  frequently  mentioned  in  the  literature 
of  that  day. 

Bob  Warden  was  the  younger  brother  of  Mr.  Warden, 
a  gentleman  who,  '  after  having  given  a  new  turn  to 
Jackanapes  Lane,  and  promoted  many  useful  objects 
for  the  good  of  the  public,  was  undeservedly  hanged.'' 
We  may  explain  here  that  Jackanapes  Lane  was  the 
original  name  of  Carey  Street,  north  of  the  Law  Courts, 
and  the  new  turn  Mr.  Warden  gave  to  it  is  the  western 
bend  connecting  it  with  Portugal  Street.  Bob  Warden, 
after  his  brother's  death,  was  apprenticed  to  a  painter, 
but,  thinking  more  of  his  palate  than  his  palette,  he 
dropped  the  latter,  and  with  some  money  left  to  him, 


QUEER  CLUBS  OF  FORMER  DAYS        89 

established  a  convivial  club  at  the  Hill,  in  the  Strand, 
where  all  sorts  of  queer  characters,  such  as  ruined 
gamesters,  petticoat-pensioners,  Irish  captains,  sharpers 
and  cheats  were  welcome.  As  the  meetings  took  place 
in  a  cellar,  the  club  became  known  as  the  Cellar  Club, 
and  was  the  forerunner  of  the  Coal  Hole  and  the  Lord 
Chief  Baron  Nicholson.  Bob,  amidst  his  roistering 
customers,  drank  himself  to  death. 

For  about  ten  years  the  Mohawks,  or  Mohocks,  kept 
London    in    a    state    of    alarm,    though    they    seldom 
ventured    into    the    City,  where  the   watch    was    more 
efficient,  but  confined  themselves  chiefly  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Clare  Market,  Covent  Garden,  and  the 
Strand.     The  Spectator  says  of  them  :  '  Some  of  them 
are  celebrated  for  dexterity  in  tipping  the  lion  upon 
them,  which  is  performed  by  squeezing  the  nose  flat  to 
the  face  and  boring  out  the  eyes  with  their  fingers. 
Others  are  called  the  dancing-masters,  and  teach  their 
scholars  to  cut  capers  by  running  swords  through  their 
legs.    ...    A  third   sort  are   the  Nimblers,   who   set 
women   on   their  heads  and   commit   .   .    .    barbarities 
on  them.1     Their  conduct  in  the  end  became  so  alarm- 
ing  that    a    reward    of    dflOO    was    offered    by    royal 
proclamation  for  the  apprehension  of  any  one  of  them. 
Curious  stories  were  current  at  various  times  as  to  the 
origin  of  this  society.    In  the  '  Memoirs '  of  the  Marquis 
of  Torcy,  Secretary  of  State  to  Louis  XIV.,  and  a  famous 
diplomatist  (born  1665,  died  1746),  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough is  said  to  have  suggested  to  Prince  Eugene  '  to 
employ  a  band   of  ruffians    ...    to  stroll   about  the 
streets  by  night  .  .  .  and  to  insult  people  by  passing 
along,  increasing  their  licentiousness  gradually,  so  as  to 


90  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

commit  greater  and  greater  disorders  .  .  .  that  when 
the  inhabitants  of  London  and  Westminster  were 
accustomed  to  the  insults  of  these  rioters,  it  would 
not  be  difficult  to  assassinate  those  of  whom  they  might 
wish  to  be  freed,  and  to  cast  the  whole  blame  on  the 
band  of  ruffians.1  This  project  the  Prince  is  reported 
to  have  rejected.  Swift,  in  his  '  History  of  the  Four 
Last  Years  of  Queen  Anne,'  attributes  the  scheme  to 
the  Prince  himself  on  his  visit  to  this  country,  through 
his  hatred  of  Treasurer  Harley.  He  proposed  that 
'  the  Treasurer  should  be  taken  off  .  .  .  that  this 
might  easily  be  done  and  pass  for  an  effect  of  chance, 
if  it  were  preceded  by  encouraging  some  proper  people 
to  commit  small  riots  in  the  night.  And  in  several 
parts  of  the  town  a  crew  of  ruffians  were  accordingly 
employed  about  that  time,  who  probably  exceeded 
their  commission  .  .  .  and  acted  inhuman  outrages 
on  many  persons,  whom  they  cut  and  mangled  in  the 
face  and  arms  and  other  parts  of  their  bodies.  .  .  . 
This  account  .  .  .  was  confirmed  beyond  all  contra- 
diction by  several  intercepted  letters  and  papers.'  It 
is  just  possible  that  popular  panic  exaggerated  the 
doings  of  the  Mohawks.  Perhaps  they  did  not  exceed 
in  savagery  the  drunken  frolics  then  customary  at 
night-time. 

The  Hell  Fire  Club  was  an  institution  of  a  character 
similar  to  that  of  the  Mohawks.  It  was  abolished  by 
an  order  of  the  Privy  Council  in  1721,  '  against  certain 
scandalous  clubs,'  but  it  must  have  been  revived  in  the 
country,  for  John  Wilkes,  about  1750,  was  a  notorious 
member  of  a  club  with  the  above  name  at  Medmenham 
Abbey,  Bucks. 


QUEER  CLUBS  OF  FORMER  DAYS        91 

The  Calves"  Head  Club  for  a  time  had  its  head- 
quarters at  The  Cock,  an  inn  long  since  demolished, 
in  Suffolk  Street,  Pall  Mall.  It  was  one  of  the  many 
inns  at  which  Pepys  was  '  mighty  merry.1  The  club  is 
said  to  have  been  originated  by  Milton  and  other 
partisans  of  the  Commonwealth  ;  and  the  author  of  the 
'  Secret  History  of  the  Calves1  Head  Club  ' — probably 
Ned  Ward — gives  an  account  of  the  melodramatic  and 
diabolical  ceremonies  observed  at  their  banquets.  An 
axe  was  hung  up  in  their  club-room  as  a  sacred  symbol 
— the  destroyer  of  the  tyrant.  But  the  eating  and 
drinking,  for  which,  as  Addison  says,  clubs  were  in- 
stituted, were  not  neglected  by  the  members.  At  the 
banquet  held  in  1710  there  was  spent  on  bread,  beer, 
and  ale  the  sum  of  £3  10s.  ;  on  fifty  calves1  heads, 
£5  5s.  ;  on  bacon,  £1  10s. ;  on  six  chickens  and  two 
capons,  £1  ;  on  three  joints  of  veal,  18s.  ;  on  butter 
and  flour,  15s.  ;  on  oranges,  lemons,  vinegar,  and  spices, 
£1 ;  on  oysters  and  sausages,  15s. ;  on  the  use  of  pewter 
and  linen,  £1  ;  and  on  various  other  items  additional 
sums,  bringing  the  total  up  to  i?18  6s.  No  wine,  it 
will  be  noticed,  is  included  in  the  above  bill,  but  there 
is  no  doubt  a  considerable  amount  for  this  item  should 
be  added  to  it. 

Early  in  the  last  century  street  clubs  became  common 
in  various  parts  of  London,  that  is  to  say,  clubs  in  which 
the  inhabitants  of  one  or  two  streets  met  every  night  to 
discuss  the  affairs  of  the  neighbourhood.  Oat  of  these, 
we  suppose,  arose  the  Mug  House  Club,  in  Long  Acre, 
which  soon  found  imitators  in  other  parts  of  London. 
The  members — gentlemen,  lawyers,  and  tradesmen — met 
in  a  large  room.     A  gentleman  nearly  ninety  years  of 


92  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

age  was  their  president.  A  harp  played  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  room,  and  now  and  then  a  member  rose  and 
treated  the  company  to  a  song.  Nothing  was  drunk 
but  ale,  and  every  gentleman  had  his  own  mug,  which 
he  chalked  on  the  table  as  it  was  brought  in. 

In  1770  some  young  gentlemen,  on  returning  from 
the  grand  tour  it  was  then  customary  to  make  after 
leaving  college — a  tour  which  was  supposed  to  lick  the 
young  cubs  into  shape  and  refine  their  manners,  of 
course  an  illusion,  since,  whilst  abroad,  they  associated 
chiefly  with  the  scum  of  English  society  then  swarming 
on  the  Continent — some  of  these  young  gentlemen,  on 
their  return,  established  in  St.  James's  Street  the  Savoir 
V ivre  Club,  where  they  held  periodical  dinners,  of  which 
macaroni  was  a  standing  dish.  This  club  was  the 
nursery  of  the  Macaronis,  a  phalanx  of  mild  Hyde 
Park  beaux,  who  were  distinguished  for  nothing  but 
the  ridiculous  dress  they  assumed.  An  unfinished  copy 
of  verses  found  among  Sheridan's  papers,  and  which 
Thomas  Moore  considered  as  the  foundation  of  certain 
lines  in  the  '  School  for  Scandal,'  delineates  the 
Macaronis  in  a  few  masterly  strokes  : 

'  Then  I  mount  on  my  palfrey  as  gay  as  a  lark, 
And,  followed  by  John,  take  the  dust  in  Hyde  Park. 
In  the  way  I  am  met  by  some  smart  Macaroni, 
Who  rides  by  my  side  on  a  little  bay  pony ; 
...  as  taper  and  slim  as  the  ponies  they  ride, 
Their  legs  are  as  slim,  and  their  shoulders  no  wider,'  etc. 

The  Savoir  Vivre  Club  did  not  outlive  the  reign  of 
the  Macaronis,  which  lasted  about  five  years,  and  the 
club  ended  its  days — the  chairmen  and  linkmen  never 
having  understood  its  foreign  appellation — as  a  public- 


QUEER  CLUBS  OF  FORMER  DAYS       93 

house  bearing  the  name  and  sign  of  The  Savoy  Weavers. 
There  were,  in  the  last  century  especially,  no  end  of 
small  clubs,  whose  objects  in  most  cases  were  trivial  and 
ridiculous.     Short  notice  is  all  they  deserve. 

The  Humdrum  Club  was  composed  of  gentlemen  of 
peaceable  dispositions,  who  were  satisfied  to  meet  at  a 
tavern,  smoke  their  pipes,  and  say  nothing  till  mid- 
night. The  Twopenny  Club  was  formed  by  a  number 
of  artisans  and  mechanics,  who  met  every  night,  each 
depositing  on  his  entering  the  club-room  his  twopence. 
If  a  member  swore,  his  neighbours  might  kick  him  on 
the  shins.  If  a  member's  wife  came  to  fetch  him,  she 
was  to  speak  to  him  outside  the  door.  In  the  reign  of 
Charles  II.  was  established  the  Duellists'1  Club,  to  which 
no  one  was  admitted  who  had  not  killed  his  man.  The 
chronicler  of  the  club  naively  says  :  '  This  club,  consist- 
ing only  of  men  of  honour,  did  not  continue  long,  most 
of  the  members  being  put  to  the  sword  or  hanged.1 

The  Everlasting  Club,  founded  in  the  first  decade  of 
the  last  century,  was  so  called  because  its  hundred 
members  divided  the  twenty-four  hours  of  day  and 
night  among  themselves  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
club  was  always  sitting,  no  person  presuming  to  rise 
till  he  was  relieved  by  his  appointed  successor,  so  that 
a  member  of  the  club  not  on  duty  himself  could  always 
find  company,  and  have  his  whet  or  draught,  as  the 
rules  say,  at  any  time. 

The  tradespeople  and  workmen  of  the  past  seem  to 
have  had  a  passion  for  clubs  ;  but  there  is  this  to  be 
said  in  their  favour,  theirs  were  only  drinking  clubs. 
Our  modem  patrons  of  low-class  clubs  establish  them 
for  the  worse  pursuits  of  gambling  and  betting. 


IX. 

CURIOUS  STORIES  OF  THE  STOCK  EXCHANGE. 

TN  the  Weekly  Journal  of  January  2,  1719-20,  can  be 
"■■  read  :  '  It  was  the  observation  of  a  witty  knight 
many  years  ago,  that  the  English  people  were 
something  like  a  flight  of  birds  at  a  barn-door.  Shoot 
among  them  and  kill  ever  so  many,  the  rest  shall  return 
to  the  same  place  in  a  very  little  time,  without  any 
remembrance  of  the  evil  that  had  befallen  their  fellows.1 
The  pigeons  at  Monte  Carlo,  whom  the  cruel-minded 
idiots  who  fire  at  them  have  missed,  instead  of  flying  at 
once  and  for  ever  from  the  murderous  spot,  perch  on  the 
cage  in  which  their  fellows  are  kept,  and  are  easily 
caught  again,  to  be  eventually  killed.  '  Thus  the 
English,1  the  Weekly  Journal  concludes,  '  though  they 
have  had  examples  enough  in  these  latter  times  of 
people  ruined  by  engaging  in  projects,  yet  they  still  fall 
in  with  the  next  that  appears.1  And  thus  the  Stock 
Exchange  flourishes.  That  desolation-spreading  upas- 
tree  was  planted  in  the  mephitic  morass  of  the  national 
debt.  It  is  considered  deserving  of  blame  in  an  in- 
dividual to  get  into  debt,  yet  sometimes  his  doing  so  is 
unavoidable — his  means  are  insufficient  for  his  wants. 


STORIES  OF  THE  STOCK  EXCHANGE     95 

But  a  nation  has  no  excuse  for  taking  credit  and  getting 
into  debt.  There  is  wealth  enough  in  the  country  to 
pay  cash  for  all  it  requires  ;  and  if  it  borrows  money 
merely  to  subsidize  foreign  tyrants  to  enchain  their  own 
subjects,  it  commits  a  criminal  act.  But  nearly  the 
whole  of  our  national  debt  has  such  an  origin,  and  its 
poisonous  produce  is  the  Stock  Exchange.  The  word 
'  stock-jobber''  was  first  heard  in  1688,  when  a  crowd 
of  companies  sprang  into  existence,  and  it  was  then 
that  the  Stock  Exchange  was  first  established  as  an 
independent  institution  at  Jonathan's  Coffee-house,  in 
Change  Alley,  in  or  about  1698.  Before  then  tl*e 
brokers  had  carried  on  their  business  in  the  Royal 
Exchange.  London  at  that  time  abounded — at  what 
time  does  it  not? — with  new  projects  and  schemes, 
many  of  them  delusory,  consequently  the  legitimate 
transactions  of  the  Royal  Exchange  were  inconveniently 
interfered  with  by  the  presence  of  so  many  jobbers  and 
brokers — that  pernicious  spawn  of  the  public  funds,  as 
Noortbouck  calls  them — and  they  were  ordered  to  leave 
the  Exchange.  They  just  crossed  the  road  and  went  to 
Jonathan's,  '  and  though  a  public  nuisance,  they  serve 
the  purposes  of  ministers  too  well,  in  propagating  a 
spirit  of  gaming  in  Government  securities,  to  be  exter- 
minated, as  a  wholesome  policy  would  dictate."1  There, 
at  Jonathan's,  '  you  will  see  a  fellow  in  shabby  clothes,1 
as  we  read  in  the  '  Anecdotes  of  the  Manners  and 
Customs  of  London,'  *  selling  ^10,000  or  .£12,000  in 
stock,  though  perhaps  he  may  not  be  worth  at  the 
same  time  10s.,  and  with  as  much  zeal  as  if  he  were  a 
director,  which  they  call  selling  a  bear-skin.'  Thus  this 
latter  expression  seems  very  old.     The  business  of  stock- 


96  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

jobbing  increased,  in  spite   of  some   feeble   repressive 
attempts  on  the  part  of  Government  in  1720,  the  House 
of  Commons    passing  a  vote  '  that  nothing  can   tend 
more  to  the  establishment  of  public  credit  than  prevent- 
ing the  infamous  practice  of  stock-jobbing"';  and  also 
passing  at  the  same  time  an  Act  enabling  persons  who 
had    been    sufferers    thereby   to    obtain    an    easy    and 
speedy  redress.*     In  spite  of  this  the  brokers  contrived 
to  thrive  to  such  an  extent  that  they  found  it  necessary 
to  take   a    more    commodious    room    in    Threadneedle 
Street,  to  which  admission  was  obtained  on  payment  of 
sixpence.     The  Bank  Rotunda  was  at  one  period   the 
place  where  bargains  in  stocks  were  made  ;  but  there 
the  brokers  were  as  great  a  nuisance  as  they  had  been 
at  the  Royal  Exchange,  and  were  turned  out.     It  was 
then  they  took  the  room  in  Threadneedle  Street,  and 
in  the  year  1799  they  raised  i?13,150  in  1,263  shares  of 
d£?50  each,  and  purchased  a  site  in  Capel  Court,  com- 
prising Mendoza's  boxing-room  and  debating  forum  and 
buildings  contiguous,  on  which  the  present  Stock  Ex- 
change was  erected,  and  opened  in  1801.     Capel  Court 
was  so  called  from  the  London  residence  of  Sir  William 
Capel,  Lord  Mayor  of  London  in  1504.     Within  the 
last  decade  the  building  has  been  considerably  enlarged 
and  beautified. 

Stockbrokers  are  supposed  to  lead  very  harassed  and 
restless  lives — yes,  if  they  speculate  on  their  own  account 
and  with  their  own  money,  a  folly  which  no  experienced 

*  An  Act  passed  in  1734  forbade  time  bargains  under  a  penalty 
of  £500  on  brokers  and  their  clients,  and  of  £100  for  contracting 
for  the  sale  of  stock  of  which  the  person  was  not  possessed. 
Both  these  statutes  were  repealed  circa  I860. 


STORIES  OF  THE  STOCK  EXCHANGE     97 

broker  ever  thinks  of  committing.  He  speculates  for 
other  people,  and  with  their  money,  and,  well,  if  before 
the  official  hour  of  opening — viz.,  eleven  o'clock — a 
chance  presents  itself  of  a  deal  with  a  customer's  stock 
on  the  broker's  account,  by  which  a  little  benefit  accrues 
to  the  latter,  the  customer  knows  nothing  about  it,  and 
what  you  are  ignorant  of  does  not  hurt.  The  broker  is, 
in  this  respect,  very  much  like  the  lawyer.  Neither  the 
broker  nor  the  lawyer  can  be  expected  to  share  their 
clients1  anxieties  concerning  investments  or  disputed 
interests,  and  they  don't.  When  either  of  them  leaves 
his  office  for  his  suburban  villa  or  Brighton  breezes,  he 
leaves  all  thoughts  of  business  behind  him  in  the  office, 
considering  that  the  freedom  from  care  he  enjoys  at  home 
is  honestly  earned,  and  no  doubt  it  is — in  his  estimation. 

Until  within  the  first  quarter  of  this  century  a  singular 
custom  concerning  the  admission  of  Jews  to  the  Stock 
Exchange  was  in  existence.  The  number  of  Jew  brokers 
was  limited  to  twelve,  and  these  could  secure  the  privi- 
lege only  by  a  liberal  gratuity  to  the  Lord  Mayor  for 
the  time  being.  During  the  Mayoralty  of  Wilkes,  one 
of  the  Jew  brokers  was  taken  seriously  ill,  and  Wilkes 
is  said  to  have  speculated  pretty  openly  on  the  advan- 
tage he  would  derive  from  filling  up  the  vacancy.  The 
son  of  the  broker,  meeting  the  Lord  Mayor,  reproached 
Wilkes  with  wishing  his  father's  death.  '  My  dear 
fellow,1  replied  Wilkes,  with  the  sarcastic  humour 
peculiar  to  him,  '  you  are  in  error,  for  I  would  rather 
have  all  the  Jew  brokers  dead  than  your  father.-' 

The  funds  are  much  affected  by  political  events  ;  that 
goes  without  saying.  Their  rise  or  fall  may  be  very 
rapid.     It  was  exceptionally  so  in  the  early  period  of 

7 


98  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  French  revolutionary  war.  In  March,  1792,  the 
Three  per  Cents,  were  at  96,  in  1797  they  were  as  low 
as  48,  the  lowest  they  ever  fell  to.  The  possession  of 
prior  or  exclusive  intelligence  enables  persons  to  specu- 
late with  great  success.  A  broker  who  casually  became 
acquainted  with  the  failure  of  Lord  Macartney's 
negotiation  with  the  French  Directory,  made  £16,000 
while  breakfasting  at  Batson's  Coffee-house,  Cornhill, 
and  had  he  not  been  timid,  might  have  gained  half  a 
million,  so  great  was  the  fluctuation,  owing  to  the  news 
being  entirely  unexpected. 

But  the  magnates  of  the  money  market  did  not  rely 
on  casual  intelligence.  They  left  no  stone  unturned  to 
obtain  reliable  information  in  advance  even  of  Govern- 
ment. Thus  Sir  Henry  Furnese,  a  bank  director,  paid 
for  constant  despatches  from  Holland,  Flanders,  France 
and  Germany.  He  made  an  enormous  haul  by  his  early 
intelligence  of  the  surrender  of  Namur  in  1695.  King 
William  gave  him  a  diamond  ring  as  a  reward  for  earlv 
information;  yet  he  was  not  above  fabricating  false 
news,  and  he  had  his  tricks  for  influencing  the  funds. 
If  he  wished  to  buy,  his  brokers  looked  gloomy,  and,  the 
alarm  spread,  they  concluded  their  bargains.  Marl- 
Ljrough  had  an  annuity  of  £6,000  from  Medina,  the 
Jew,  for  permission  to  attend  his  campaigns.  During 
the  troubles  of  1745,  when  the  rebels  advanced  towards 
London,  stocks  fell  terribly.  Sampson  Gideon,  a  famous 
Jew  broker,  managed  to  have  the  first  news  of  the 
Pretender's  retreat.  He  hastened  to  Jonathan's,  bought 
all  the  stock  in  the  market,  spending  all  his  cash,  and 
pledging  his  name  for  more.  This  stroke  of  business 
made  him  a  millionaire. 


STORIES  OF  THE  STOCK  EXCHANGE     99 

During  the  last  years  of  the  French  wars  a  difference 
of  8  per  cent.,  and  even  10  per  cent.,  would  occur  within 
an  hour,  and  thus  great  fortunes  might  be  won  or  lost 
within  that  short  time.  It  was  also  a  period  of  gigantic 
frauds,  but  of  these  later  on. 

Of  all  the  sons  of  Maier  Amschel  Rothschild,  Nathan, 
born  in  1777,  was  undoubtedly  the  most  prominent. 
Inheriting  his  father's  spirit,  he  left  his  home  at  the  early 
age  of  twenty-two,  and  in  1798  opened  a  small  shop  as 
a  banker  and  money-lender  at  Manchester.  He  had 
left  Frankfurt,  where  his  father's  house  had  just  been 
knocked  into  ruins  by  the  bombardment  of  Marshal 
Kleber,  with  only  a  thousand  florins  in  his  pocket.  But 
the  cotton  interest  was  just  then  beginning  to  develop 
itself,  and  Nathan  took  such  clever  advantage  of  the 
opportunities  this  offered  him,  that  at  the  end  of  five 
years  he  came  from  Manchester  to  London  with  a 
fortune  of  =£200,000,  where  he  became  the  son-in-law  of 
Levi  Barnett  Cohen,  one  of  the  Jewish  City  magnates. 
The  report  of  his  Manchester  successes  had  preceded 
him  to  the  Capital,  and  he  immediately  engaged  largely 
in  Stock  Exchange  speculations.  Whilst  houses  of  the 
oldest  standing  were  tottering  or  falling,  owing  to  the 
State  loan  of  1810  having  turned  out  a  failure,  and  the 
fortunes  of  the  Peninsular  War  seemed  most  doubtful, 
some  drafts  of  Wellington  to  a  considerable  amount 
came  over  here,  and  there  was  no  money  in  the  Ex- 
chequer to  meet  them.  Nathan  Rothschild,  satisfied  as 
to  England's  final  victory,  purchased  the  bills  at  a  large 
discount,  and  finally  found  the  means  of  redeeming  them 
at  par.  It  was  a  splendid  speculation,  which  resulted 
in  his  entering  into  closer  intercourse  with  the  Ministry, 

7—2 


100  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

and  he  was  chiefly  employed  in  transmitting  the  sub- 
sidies which  England  furnished — most  foolishly  indeed 
— to  the  Continental  Powers.     The  circumstance  that 
Nathan  was  supplied  by  his  brothers  at  Frankfurt  and 
elsewhere  with  the  earliest  and  most  reliable  intelligence, 
and  his  trustworthy  connections  and  arrangements  in 
London,  enabled  him  to  turn  such  knowledge  to  imme- 
diate and   profitable  account.      But  there  being  then 
neither  railways  nor  telegraphs,  news  was  slow  in  coming. 
Nathan  trained  carrier  pigeons,  and  organized  a  staff  of 
agents,  whose  duty  it  was  to  follow  the  march  of  the 
armies,  and  daily  and  hourly  to  send  reports  in  cipher, 
tied  under  the  wings  of  the  pigeons.     His  agents,  by 
means  of  fast-sailing  boats,  taking  the  shortest  routes, 
indicated  by  Nathan  himself — the  mail-boats  between 
Folkestone  and  Boulogne  of  the  present  day  follow  one 
of  these  routes — carried  large  sums  between  the  coasts 
of  Germany,  France,  and  England.     And  when  events 
on  the  Continent  were  coming  to  a  crisis,  Nathan  on 
more  than  one  occasion  hurried  over  to  the  Continent 
to  watch  the  course  of  affairs.     It  is  said  that  Nathan 
Rothschild,  on  June   18,    1815,    was    on    the    field    of 
Waterloo,*    and    watched  the  battle    till   he  saw   the 
French  troops  in  full  retreat,  when  he  immediately  rode 
back  to  Brussels,  whence  a  carriage  took  him  to  Ostend. 
The  sea  was  stormy  ;  in  vain  Nathan  offered  500  francs, 

*  To  an  article  I  wrote  twenty-five  years  ago  on  this  topic  I 
find  appended  the  following  note  :  'We  give  the  following  on 
the  authority  of  Martin,  but  must  add  that  a  private  friend, 
who  formerly  filled  an  office  of  trust  in  the  firm  of  Rothschild 
Brother?,  delares  the  whole  to  be  a  fiction.'  But  who  this  friend 
was  we  cannot  now  remember. 


STORIES  OF  THE  STOCK  EXCHANGE     101 

600  francs,  800  francs,  to  carry  him  across;  at  last  a 
poor  fisherman  risked  his  life  for  2,000  francs,  and  his 
frail   barque,   which   carried    Caesar   and   his   fortunes, 
landed  Nathan   in   the  evening-  at   Dover.      When  he 
appeared  on  June  20,  leaning  against  his  usual  pillar  in 
the  Stock  Exchange,  everything  and  everybody  looked 
gloomy.     He  whispered  to  a  few  of  his  most  intimate 
friends  that  the  allied  army  had  been  defeated.     The 
dismal    news    spread    like    wildfire,    and    there    was    a 
tremendous  fall  in  the  funds.     Nathan's  known  agents 
sold  with  the  rest,  but  his  unknown  agents  bought  every 
scrap  of  paper  that  was  to  be  had.     It  was  not  till  the 
afternoon  of  June  21   that  the  news  of  the  victory  of 
Waterloo  became   known.      Nathan    was   the    first    to 
inform  his  friends  of  the  happy  event,  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  before  the   news  was  given  to  the  public.     The 
funds  rose  faster  than  they  had  fallen,  and  Nathan  still 
leant  against  his  pillar  in  the  southern  corner  of  the 
Stock  Exchange,  but  richer  by  about  a  million  sterling. 
From  that  day  the  career  of  Nathan  was  one  of  ever- 
increasing  prosperity  ;  his  firm  became  the  agents  of  all 
European   Governments ;    he   made  bargains   with   the 
Czar  of  Russia  and   with   South  American  Republics, 
with  the  Pope  and  the  Sultan.     About  the  morality  of 
the  Waterloo  episode  the  less  said  the  better,  but  peers 
and    princes   of  the    blood,   bishops    and    archbishops, 
partook  of  his  sumptuous  banquets,  whilst  he  calculated 
to  a  penny  on  what  a  clerk  could  live  ! 

Another  financier,  who  almost  rivalled  Rothschild  as 
a  speculator,  was  Abraham  Goldsmid,  who  was  ruined 
by  a  conspiracy.  He,  in  conjunction  with  a  banking 
establishment,   had    taken    a   large    Government    loan. 


102  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

The  conspirators  managed  to  cause  the  omnium  stock 
to  fall  to  18  discount.  The  result  was  Goldsmid's 
failure  and  eventually  his  suicide,  whilst  the  con- 
spirators made  a  profit  of  about  i?2,000,000. 

Among  other  notable  stockbrokers  we  must  not  omit 
Francis  Bailey,  F.S.A.,  President  of  the  Royal  Astro- 
nomical Society,  who  retired  from  the  Stock  Exchange 
in  1825.  In  1851  he  repeated  at  his  house  in  Tavistock 
Place,  Russell  Square,  the  Cavendish  experiment  of 
weighing  the  earth,  and  calculating  its  bulk  and 
figure,  and  at  the  same  time  verifying  the  standard 
measure  of  the  British  nation,  and  rectifying  pendulum 
experiments.  In  the  garden  of  the  house  a  small 
observatory  was  erected  for  those  purposes,  and  is,  we 
believe,  still  standing. 

We  alluded  a  little  while  ago  to  some  gigantic  frauds 
in  Stock  Exchange  operations.  One  of  the  most  extra- 
ordinary and  elaborate  of  such  frauds  was  that  carried 
out  by  De  Berenger  and  Cochrane- Johnstone  in  1814. 
Napoleon's  military  operations  against  the  allies  had 
greatly  depressed  the  funds.  On  February  21,  1814, 
about  one  o'clock  a.m.,  a  violent  knocking  was  heard 
at  the  door  of  the  Ship  Inn,  then  the  chief  hotel  at 
Dover.  When  the  door  was  opened,  a  person  in  a 
richly-embroidered  scarlet  uniform  announced  himself 
as  an  aide-de-camp  of  Lord  Cathcart  (who  was  aide-de- 
camp to  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in  1815),  and  as  the 
bearer  of  important  news.  The  allies  had  gained  a 
great  victory,  and  entered  Paris ;  Napoleon  had  been 
captured  and  killed  by  Cossacks,  who  had  cut  his  body 
into  a  thousand  pieces.  Immediate  peace  was  now 
certain.      The    stranger    ordered    a    post  -  chaise,   and 


STORIES  OF  THE  STOCK  EXCHANGE     103 

departed   for   London,   but    before   leaving,   he  sent  a 
note   containing  the  news   to  the  Port  Admiral,  who 
received  it  about  four  a.m. ;    but  the  morning  being 
foggy,  the  telegraph  could  not  be  worked.     The  sham 
aide-de-camp — really  De  Berenger,  an  adventurer,  after- 
wards a  livery  stable-keeper — dashed  along  the  road, 
throwing   napoleons    to    the    post  -  boys    whenever   he 
changed  horses.     At  Bexley  Heath  it  was  clear  to  him 
that   the    telegraph    could    not    have    worked,    so    he 
moderated   his  pace,  spreading  at  the  same  time  the 
news  of  Napoleon's  defeat   and  death.      At  Lambeth 
he  entered  a  hackney-coach,  telling  the  post-boys  to 
spread  the  news,  which  reached   the   Stock   Exchange 
about  ten  o'clock,  in  consequence  of  which  the  funds 
rose,  but  fell  again  when  it  was  found  that  the  Lord 
Mayor  had  had    no    intelligence.      But   about  twelve 
o'clock  three  persons,  two   of   whom  were  dressed  as 
French    officers,  drove    in   a  post-chaise   over  London 
Bridge ;  their  horses  were  bedecked  with  laurels.     The 
officers  scattered  papers  among  the  crowd,  announcing 
the  death  of  Napoleon  and  the  fall  of  Paris.     They 
then    paraded    through    Cheapside  and    Fleet    Street, 
passed  over  Blackfriars   Bridge,  and  drove  rapidly  to 
the    Marshgate,    Lambeth,    got    out,    changed    their 
cocked    hats    for    round    ones,    and    disappeared     as 
mysteriously    as    their   confederate,  De  Berenger,   had 
done  a  few  hours  earlier. 

The  funds  now  rose  again,  but  when,  after  hours  of 
anxious  expectation,  it  was  discovered  that  the  news, 
on  which  many  bargains  had  been  made,  was  false, 
there  was,  of  course,  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 
A  committee  was  appointed  by  the  Stock  Exchange  to 


104  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

track  out  the  conspiracy,  as  on  the  two  days  before 
stocks  to  the  amount  of  ~C826,000  had  been  purchased 
by  persons  implicated.  One  of  the  gang  had,  for  a 
blind,  called  on  Lord  Cochrane,  and  Cochrane -John- 
stone, a  relation  of  his,  had  purchased  Consols  for  him, 
that  he  might  unconsciously  benefit  by  the  fraud.  The 
Tories,  eager  to  destroy  a  political  enemy,  concentrated 
all  their  rage  on  him,  and  he  was  tried,  fined  i?l,000, 
and  sentenced  to  stand  for  one  hour  in  the  pillory  ;  but 
this  latter  part  of  the  sentence  was  not  carried  out,  as 
Sir  Francis  13urdett  had  declared  that  if  it  was  done  he 
would  stand  beside  his  friend  on  the  scaffold  of  shame. 
Cochrane  was  further  stripped  of  his  knighthood,  and 
his  escutcheon  kicked  down  the  steps  of  St.  George's 
Chapel  at  Windsor.  But  in  his  old  age  his  innocence 
and  the  injustice  done  to  him  were  recognised,  and  his 
coronet  restored  to  him  unsoiled.  But  could  this  atone 
for  all  the  wrong  inflicted,  and  all  the  misery  endured  ? 
Those  who  wish  to  know  all  the  details  of  this  remark- 
able fraud  will  find  them  in  the  two  volumes  of  the 
Gentleman's  Magazine  for  1814.  The  first  volume 
gives  a  full  account  of  the  evidence  produced  at  the 
trial . 


X. 

WITS  AND  BEAUX  OF  OLD  LONDON   SOCIETY. 

A  MERE  beau,  a  '  man  of  dress,1  as  our  dictionaries 
define  him,  is  a  pitiful  object — a  walking  and 
talking  doll,  painted  and  bedizened,  and  as 
imbecile-looking  as  a  wax  figure.  The  man  who 
chooses  to  go  in  for  being  a  beau  should,  if  he  does 
not  wish  to  be  thoroughly  contemptible,  possess,  besides 
physical  beauty,  a  stock  of  brains,  elegant  manners, 
ready  wit,  and  moral  courage.  The  gentleman  who 
at  the  seaside  dresses  altogether  in  white  must  have 
a  personally  distinguished  appearance  not  to  be  taken 
for  his  own  chef  de  cuisine.  Beaux  are  rather  out  of 
fashion  just  now — mashers  and  fops  replace  them.  In 
the  last  century  they  were  more  plentiful.  Perhaps 
the  then  prevailing  popinjay  style  of  dress,  with  its 
embroidered  and  many-coloured  coats  and  waistcoats, 
gaudy  breeches,  wigs  and  swords,  lent  itself  more 
readily  to  the  assumption  of  the  character  than  does 
our  more  subdued  costume.  In  those  days  the 
aspirants  to  the  title  of  beau  were  termed  bucks, 
gallants,  macaronis ;  and  one  of  their  distinguishing 
features,    as    the    plays    and    portraits    of    those   days 


106  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

abundantly  demonstrate,  was  their  having  small  legs 
with  slender  calves — possibly  to  show  they  were  not 
footmen  in  disguise.  And,  as  a  rule,  in  those  days 
the  valet  had  more  brains  than  his  master. 

Beaux  have  always  been  a  fruitful  and  pleasant  theme 
for  the  satirist's  pen.  The  Spectator,  in  No.  275,  de- 
scribes the  dissection  of  a  beau's  head,  which  is  found 
to  contain  no  brain,  but  in  the  usual  place  for  one, 
smelling  strongly  of  essences  and  orange-flower  water, 
a  kind  of  horny  substance,  cut  into  a  thousand  little 
faces  or  mirrors.  Further,  a  lot  of  ribbons,  laces,  and 
embroidery,  billets-doux,  love-letters,  snuff,  fictions, 
vows,  oaths,  and  a  spongy  substance,  known  as  non- 
sense. A  muscle,  not  often  discovered  in  dissections, 
was  found,  the  os  cribriforme,  which  draws  the  nose 
upwards  when  by  that  motion  it  intends  to  express 
contempt.  The  ogling  muscles  were  very  much  worn 
with  use.  The  individual  to  whom  this  head  had 
belonged  had  passed  for  a  man  for  about  thirty  years, 
and  died  in  the  flower  of  his  youth  by  the  blow  of  a 
fire-shovel,  he  having  been  surprised  by  an  eminent 
citizen  as  he  was  paying  some  attentions  to  his  wife. 
This  analysis  of  a  beau's  head,  or  character,  was  written 
in  1712.  In  1757  an  essayist  described  him  thus  in 
doggerel : 

'  Would  you  a  modern  beau  commence, 
Shake  off  that  foe  to  pleasure,  sense. 
Scorn  real,  unaffected  worth, 
Despise  the  virtuous,  good  and  brave, 
To  ev'ry  passion  be  a  slave.  .  .  . 
Bo  it  your  passion,  joy  and  fame 
To  play  at  ev'ry  modish  game.  .  .   . 
Harangue  on  fashion,  point  and  lace.  .  .  . 


WITS  AND  BEAUX  OF  OLD  LONDON    107 

Affect  to  know  each  reigning  belle 
That  throngs  the  playhouse  or  the  Mall. 
Though  swearing  yo'i  detest  a  fool, 
Be  versed  in  Folly's  ample  school.  .  .  . 
These  rites  observed,  each  foppish  elf 
May  view  an  emblem  of  himself.' 

The  combination  of  wit  and  beau  in  one  person  has, 
nevertheless,  occasionally  been  seen,  and  the  ordinary, 
or  numskulled,  beau  has  shared  in  the  reputation 
created  by  such  a  combination,  just  as  all  judges  are 
assumed  to  be  sober.  But  in  the  days  when  beaux 
flourished  wit  of  a  very  attenuated  kind  tickled  the 
fancy  of  the  public,  who  haunted  the  taverns  patronized 
by  the  so-called  wits.  Even  the  jokes  which  passed  at 
the  Mermaid  between  Shakspere,  Ben  Jonson,  and  other 
professed  jesters  must  appear  to  modern  readers  who  are 
not  absurdly  prepossessed  in  favour  of  all  that  savours 
of  antiquity,  as  heavy,  dull,  and  often  far-fetched.  To 
justify  what  may  appear  rank  heresy,  let  me  quote  one 
of  Tarleton's  *  witty'  sayings.  Tarleton  was  Shakspere's 
friend  and  fellow -actor,  the  low  comedian  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  reign,  who  probably  suggested  to  Shakspere 
some  of  his  jesters  and  fools.  Now,  this  is  what  is 
transmitted  to  us  as  a  specimen  of  his  wit :  Tarleton, 
keeping  an  ordinary  in  Paternoster  Row,  would  approve 
of  mustard  standing  before  his  customers  to  have  wit. 
'How  so?1  inquired  one.  'It  is  like  a  witty  scold, 
meeting  another  scold,  begins  to  scold  first.  So,"1  says 
he,  '  the  mustard,  being  licked  up  and  knowing  that 
you  will  bite  it,  begins  to  bite  you  first.1  '  I'll  try  that,"1 
says  a  gull,  and  the  mustard  so  tickled  him  that  his 
eyes  watered.     '  How  now  p1  says  Tarleton.     '  Does  my 


108  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

jest  savour  P1  '  Ay,"*  says  the  gull,  '  and  bite  too.'  '  If 
you  had  had  better  wit,1  says  Tarleton,  'you  would 
have  bit  first.  So,  then,  conclude  with  me  that  dumb, 
unfeeling  mustard  has  more  wit  than  a  talking,  unfeeling 
fool,  as  you  are.'  And  this  was  considered  'a  rare 
conceit '  in  the  days  of  Shakspere.  We  are  rather 
more  exacting  now. 

The  beaux  of  the  days  we  are  speaking  of  were, 
indeed,  poor  specimens  of  humanity.  They  were  a 
noisy,  swaggering  lot,  as  we  learn  from  the  author  of 
'  Shakspere's  England/  '  If  a  gallant,'  he  says, '  entered 
the  ordinary  ...  he  would  find  the  room  full  of  fashion- 
mongers  .  .  .  courtiers,  who  came  there  for  society  and 
news ;  adventurers  who  have  no  home  .  .  .  quarrelsome 
men  paced  about  fretfully  fingering  their  sword-hilts, 
and  maintaining  as  sour  a  face  as  that  Puritan  moping 
in  a  corner,  pent  up  by  a  group  of  young  swaggerers, 
disputing  over  cards.  .  .  .  The  soldiers  bragged  of 
nothing  but  of  their  employment  in  Ireland  and  in  the 
Low  Countries.  .  .  .  The  mere  dullard  sat  silent,  plav- 
ing  with  his  glove,  or  discussing  at  what  apothecary's 
the  best  tobacco  was  to  be  bought.1 

But  let  us,  in  the  career  of  an  individual,  Beau 
Fielding,  famous  in  his  day,  show  how  beaux  then 
acquired  a  reputation.  Scotland  Yard  was  so  called 
from  a  palace  which  stood  there,  and  was  the  residence 
of  the  Kings  of  Scotland  on  their  annual  visit  to  do 
homage  for  their  kingdom  to  the  Crown  of  England. 
On  the  union  of  the  Scottish  and  English  Crowns  the 
palace  was  allowed  to  go  to  decay.  Farts  of  it  served 
as  occasional  residences  for  various  persons,  one  of 
whom    was   Robert    Fielding,    who    died    there    in    the 


WITS  AND  BEAUX  OF  OLD  LONDON    109 

early  part  of  the  last  century.  This  Fielding  was 
generally  known  as  Beau  Fielding.  The  Tatler,  in 
August,  1709  (Nos.  50  and  51),  thus  describes  him  : 
'  Ten  lustra  and  more  are  wholly  passed  since  Orlando 
(R.  Fielding)  first  appeared  in  the  metropolis  of  this 
island,  his  descent  noble,  his  wit  humorous,  his  person 
charming.  But  to  none  of  these  advantages  was  his 
title  so  undoubted  as  that  of  his  beauty.  His  com- 
plexion was  fair,  but  his  countenance  manly ;  his 
stature  of  the  tallest,  his  shape  the  most  exact ;  and 
though  in  all  his  limbs  he  had  a  proportion  as  delicate 
as  we  see  in  the  work  of  the  most  skilful  statuaries,  his 
body  had  a  strength  and  firmness  little  inferior  to  the 
marble  of  which  such  images  are  formed.  This  made 
Orlando  the  universal  flame  of  all  the  fair  sex  ;  innocent 
virgins  sighed  for  him  as  Adonis,  experienced  widows  as 
Hercules.  Thus  did  this  figure  walk  alone,  the  pattern 
and  ornament  of  our  species,  but,  of  course,  the  envy 
of  all  who  had  the  same  passions,  without  his  superior 
merit,  and  pretences  to  the  favour  of  that  enchanting 
creature,  woman.  However,  the  generous  Orlando 
believed  himself  formed  for  the  world,  and  not  to 
be  engrossed  by  any  particular  affection.  .  .  .  Woman 
was  his  mistress,  and  the  whole  sex  his  seraglio.  His 
form  was  always  irresistible ;  and  if  we  consider  that 
not  one  of  five  hundred  can  bear  the  least  favour  from 
a  lady  without  being  exalted  above  himself  .  .  .  we 
cannot  think  it  wonderful  that  Orlando's  repeated 
conquests  touched  his  brain.  So  it  certainly  did,  and 
Orlando  became  an  enthusiast  in  love.  .  .  .  He  would 
still  add  to  the  advantages  of  his  person  that  of  a  pro- 
fession which  the  ladies  always  favour,  and  immediately 


110  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

commenced  soldier.  .  .  .  Our  hero  seeks  distant  climes 
.  .  .  after  many  feats  of  arms  .  .  .  Orlando  returns 
home,  full,  but  not  loaded,  with  years.  .  .  .  The 
beauteous  Yillaria  (Barbara,  daughter  and  heiress  of 
William  Villiers,  Lord  Viscount  Grandison,  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Ireland)  .  .  .  became  the  object  of  his 
affection.  .  .  .  According  to  Milton, 

'"  The  fair  with  conscious  majesty  approved." 

Fortune  having  now  supplied  Orlando  with  necessaries 
for  his  high  taste  of  gallantry  and  pleasure,  his  equipage 
and  economy  had  something  in  them  more  sumptuous 
and  gallant  than  could  be  conceived  in  our  degenerate 
age,  therefore  ...  all  the  Britons  under  the  age  of 
sixteen  .  .  .  followed  his  chariot  with  shouts  and 
acclamations.  ...  I  remember  I  saw  him  one  day 
stop,  and  call  the  youths  about  him,  to  whom  he 
spoke  as  follows  :  "  Good  youngsters,  go  to  school,  and 
do  not  lose  your  time  in  following;  my  wheels.  I  am 
loath  to  hurt  you,  because  I  know  not  but  you  are  all 
my  own  offspring.  .  .  .  Why,  you  young  dogs,  did  you 
never  see  a  man  before  T  "  Never  such  a  one  as  you, 
noble  General,11  replied  a  truant  from  Westminster. 
"  Sirrah,  I  believe  thee ;  there  is  a  crown  for  thee. 
Drive  on,  coachman.11  .  .  .  Fortune  being  now  pro- 
pitious to  the  gay  Orlando,  he  dressed,  he  spoke,  he 
moved  as  a  man  might  be  supposed  to  do  in  a  nation 
of  pigmies  ...  he  sometimes  rode  in  an  open  tumbril, 
of  less  size  than  ordinary,  to  show  the  largeness  of  his 
limbs,  and  the  grandeur  of  his  personage,  to  the  greater 
advantage.  ...  In  all  these  glorious  excesses  did  .  .  . 
Orlando  live  .  .  .  until  an  unlucky  accident  brought  to 


WITS  AND  BEAUX  OF  OLD  LONDON    111 

his  remembrance  that  ...  he  was  married  before  he 
courted  the  nuptials  of  Villaria.  Several  fatal  memo- 
randums were  produced  to  revive  the  memory  of  this 
accident,  and  the  unhappy  lover  was  for  ever  banished 
her  presence,  to  whom  he  owed  the  support  of  his  first 
renown  and  gallantry.  .  .  .  Orlando,  therefore,  now 
rages  in  a  garret.'  The  Barbara  Villiers  mentioned  by 
the  Tatler  was  identical  with  Ladv  Castlemaine,  Duchess 
of  Cleveland,  whose  scandalous  history  is  notorious. 
She  was  sixty-five  years  old  when  she  fell  in  love  with 
Fielding  and  married  him.  The  '  unlucky  accident1  of 
the  Tatler  was  the  fact  that  a  few  weeks  before  Fielding- 
had  been  taken  in  by  an  adventuress,  one  Mary  Wads- 
worth,  whom,  taking  her  for  a  rich  widow,  he  had 
married.  On  his  second — bigamous — marriage,  the  first 
wife  revealed  the  fact  to  Lady  Castlemaine,  who,  having 
been  shamefully  treated  by  Fielding,  was  glad  to  get 
rid  of  him.  The  first  marriage  was  proved  in  a  court  of 
law,  and  sentence  passed  on  Fielding  to  be  burnt  in  the 
hand.  By  interest  in  certain  quarters  he  was  spared 
this  ignominious  punishment ;  but  he  was  left  destitute, 
and  died  forgotten  and  forsaken. 

The  Tatler  gave  Fielding  a  noble  descent,  and  he,  in 
fact,  claimed  descent  from  the  Hapsburgs ;  and  on  the 
strength  of  his  name  ventured  to  have  the  arms  of  Lord 
Denbigh  emblazoned  on  his  coach,  and  to  drive  about 
the  ring  in  Hyde  Park.  At  the  sight  of  the  immaculate 
coat-of-arms  on  the  plebeian  chariot,  'all  the  blood  of 
the  Hapsburgs '  flew  to  the  head  of  Basil,  fourth  Earl 
of  Denbigh.  In  a  high  state  of  fury,  he  at  once  pro- 
cured a  house-painter,  and  ordered  him  to  daub  the 
coat-of-arms  completely  over,   in  broad  daylight,  and 


112  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

before  all  the  company  in  the  ring.  The  beau  tamely 
submitted  to  the  insult. 

Fielding  had  several  competitors  in  the  beau-ship ; 
contemporary  with  him  were  Beau  Edgeworth  and  Beau 
Wilson.  Of  the  former  but  little  is  on  record  ;  the 
hitter's  career  was  cut  short  at  an  early  date,  for  when 
he  was  not  much  beyond  his  twentieth  year  he  was 
killed  in  a  duel  between  him  and  John  Law,  afterwards 
so  famous  as  the  originator  of  the  Mississippi  scheme. 
The  duel  took  place  on  the  site  of  the  present  Blooms- 
bury  Square.  A  mushroom  growth  of  beaux  arose  about 
the  year  1770,  some  of  whom  having  travelled  in  Italy, 
and  introduced  macaroni  as  a  new  dish,  they  came  to  be 
designated  by  that  name.  They  dressed  in  the  most 
ridiculous  fashion,  wearing  their  hair  in  a  very  high 
foretop,  with  long  side-curls,  and  an  enormous  chignon 
behind.  Their  clothes  were  tight-fitting,  while  silk 
stockings  in  all  weathers  were  de  rigucur.  This  folly 
was  of  but  short  duration. 

In  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century  flourished 
Beau  Nash — a  great  contrast  in  manners,  character, 
social  position,  and  conduct  to  Beau  Fielding ;  but  as 
his  life  was  passed  at  Bath  he  cannot  be  reckoned  among 
London  beaux.  Yet  we  mention  him,  as  in  his  earlier 
years  he  was  slightly  connected  with  the  Metropolis,  by 
the  fact  that  he  was  entered  for  the  Temple,  though  he 
never  followed  the  law  as  a  profession. 

We  have  to  come  down  to  comparatively  recent  times 
to  encounter  a  beau  of  some  note  ;  that  beau  was  known 
as  Beau  George  Brummel.  He  was  born  in  1777,  and 
sent  to  Eton,  where  he  enjoyed  the  credit  of  being  the 
best  scholar,  the  best  oarsman,  and  the  best  cricketer  of 


WITS  AND  BEAUX  OF  OLD  LONDON    113 

his  day.  His  father  was  Under-Secretary  to  Lord  North, 
and  left  each  of  his  children  some  c£J30,000.  At  Eton 
he  made  many  aristocratic  friends,  and  thus  obtained 
the  entree  to  Devonshire  House,  where  the  beautiful 
Georgiana,  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  held  her  court,  and 
where  she  introduced  Brummell  to  the  Prince  Regent, 
who  gave  him  a  commission  in  the  10th  Hussars.  But 
the  army,  with  its  restraints,  did  not  suit  the  beau  ;  he 
left  it,  and  then  resided  in  Chesterfield  Street,  where 
the  Prince,  finding  in  him  a  kindred  spirit  of  vanity  and 
frivolity,  used  to  visit  him  in  the  morning  to  see  him 
make  his  toilet,  and  to  learn  the  art  of  tying  his  necker- 
chief fashionably.  And  frequently  the  Prince  would 
stay  all  day  to  enjoy  his  friend's  intellectual  discourse, 
stopping  to  take  a  chop  or  steak  with  him,  and  not 
returning  home  till  the  next  morning,  half-seas  over. 
The  beau  spent  his  time  chiefly  at  Brighton  and  at 
Carlton  House,  and  regularly  established  himself  as  a 
leader  of  fashion,  his  horses  and  carriages,  his  dogs, 
walking-sticks  and  snuff-boxes,  but  especially  his  clothes, 
becoming  patterns  to  all  the  empty-headed  noodles  who 
required  guidance  in  such  matters.  But  such  show 
could  not  be  supported  on  the  income  derived  from  his 
patrimony ;  Brummell  therefore  went  in  heavily  for 
gambling,  with  varying  luck.  Once  at  Brooks's  he 
played  with  Alderman  Combe,  nicknamed  '  Mash-tub,' 
Lord  Mayor  and  brewer.  The  dice-box  circulated. 
'  Come,  Mash-tub,'  said  the  beau,  who  was  the  caster, 
'  what  do  you  set  ?'  '  Twenty-five  guineas,'  said  the 
Alderman.  The  beau  won,  and  eleven  more  similar 
ventures.  As  he  pocketed  the  money,  he  said  :  '  Thank 
you,  Alderman ;  henceforth  1  shall  drink  no  porter  but 

8 


114  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

yours/  '  I  wish,  sir,"  replied  Combe,  '  that  every  other 
blackguard  in  London  would  say  the  same."  At  the 
Watier  Club,  established  at  the  instigation  of  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  Brum mell  suffered  heavy  losses,  so  that  ever 
after  he  was  in  constant  pecuniary  difficulties,  though 
Fortune  smiled  on  him  at  times.  Indulging  in  all  the 
superstitious  tendencies  of  gamblers,  he  at  one  time 
attributed  his  luck  to  the  finding  of  a  crooked  sixpence 
in  the  kennel,  as  he  was  walking  with  Mr.  Raikes,  who 
tells  the  story,  through  Berkeley  Square.  He  had  a 
hole  bored  in  the  coin,  and  attached  it  to  his  watch- 
chain.  As  for  the  succeeding  two  years  he  had  great 
luck  at  the  table  and  on  the  turf,  he  attributed  it  to  the 
lucky  sixpence.  He  is  supposed  to  have  made  nearlv 
i?30,000  during  that  time. 

A  coolness  between  the  Prince  and  the  beau  arose 
after  a  few  years;  various  reasons  are  assigned  for  it. 
He  was,  for  instance,  said  to  have  taken  the  part  of 
Mrs.  Fitzherbert,  who  had  been  privately  married  to 
the  Prince  Regent  at  Carlton  House ;  he  is  reported  to 
have  asked  Lady  Chohnondeley,  in  the  hearing  of  the 
Prince,  and  pointing  to  him,  '  Who  is  your  fat  friend  '? 
Though  it  is  also  reported  that  this  question  was  put 
to  Jack  Lee,  as  he  was  walking  up  St.  James's  Street, 
arm-in-arm  with  the  Prince,  a  few  days  after  the  beau 
had  quarrelled  with  the  latter.  But  this  blew  over, 
and  Brummell  was  again  invited  to  Carlton  House, 
where  he  took  too  much  wine.  The  Prince  said  to  his 
brother,  the  Duke  of  York  :  '  I  think  we  had  better 
order  Mr.  BrummeH\s  carriage  before  he  gets  quite 
drunk.1  Another  version  of  the  second  rupture  is  that 
Brummell   took  the   liberty  of  saying  to   the  Prince  : 


WITS  AND  BEAUX  OF  OLD  LONDON     115 

'  George,  ring  the  bell.-  The  Prince  rang  it,  and  told 
the  servant  who  answered  it :  '  Mr.  Brummelfs  carriage. ' 
This  Brummell  always  denied;  however,  he  was  a  second 
time  forbidden  Carlton  House.  For  a  few  years  he  was 
a  hanger-on  at  Oatlands,  the  seat  of  the  Duke  of  York, 
then,  having  lost  large  sums  at  play,  he  was  obliged  to 
fly  the  country,  and  having  lived  for  some  years  in 
obscurity  at  Calais,  he  obtained  the  post  of  British 
Consul  at  Caen — for  which  his  previous  career,  of  course, 
eminently  fitted  him  !  He  died  in  that  town  in  poor 
circumstances  in  1840. 

Let  us  conclude  this  short  account  of  the  poor  moth, 
basking  in  the  royal  sunshine  for  awhile,  with  one  or 
two  anecdotes.  One  day  a  youthful  beau  approached 
Brummell,  and  said  :  'Permit  me  to  ask  you  where  vou 
get  your  blacking  V  '  Ah,1  said  the  beau,  '  my  blacking 
positively  ruins  me.  I  will  tell  you  in  confidence — it  is 
made  with  the  finest  champagne  !'  Fie  was  once  at  a 
party  in  Portman  Square.  On  the  cloth  being  removed, 
the  snuff-boxes  made  their  appearance ;  BruminelTs  was 
particularly  admired ;  it  was  handed  round,  and  a  gentle- 
man, finding  it  somewhat  difficult  to  open,  incautiously 
applied  a  desert-knife  to  the  lid.  Brummell  was  on 
thorns,  and  at  last  could  contain  himself  no  longer,  and 
addressing  the  host,  he  said,  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
by  the  company :  '  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell 
your  friend  that  my  snuff-box  is  not  an  oyster  T 

England  has  had  no  regular  beau  since  the  time  of 
Brummell,  though  occasionally  some  crack-brained 
individual  has  attempted  to  wear  his  mantle.  Such  a 
one  was  Ferdinand  Geramb,  a  tight- laced  German 
General  and  Baron,  who  in  the  second  decade  of  this 

8—2 


116  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

century  strutted  about  the  parks,  conspicuous  for  his 
ringlets,  his  superb  moustaches,  and  immense  spurs. 
It  was  asserted  that  he  was  a  German  Jew,  who,  having 
married  the  widow  of  a  Hungarian  Baron,  assumed  her 
late  husband's  title.  His  fiery  moustaches  were  closely 
imitated  by  many  illustrious  personages,  and  gold  spurs 
several  inches  long  became  the  fashion — one  fool  makes 
many.  It  is  to  him  the  British  army  is  indebted  for 
the  introduction  of  hussar  uniforms.  Having;  to  leave 
England  under  the  Alien  Act,  he  went  to  Hamburg, 
where  he  set  himself  to  writing  against  the  Emperor 
Napoleon,  who  shut  him  up  in  the  Castle  of  Vincennes. 
There,  in  terrible  fear  of  being  shot,  he  made  a  vow 
that  should  he  regain  his  liberty  he  would  renounce  the 
devil  and  his  works,  and  join  the  Trappist  community. 
He  was  released  at  the  Restoration,  and  at  once  entered 
a  Trappist  monastery,  under  the  name  of  Brother 
Joseph,  and  in  course  of  time  became  Abbot  and  Pro- 
curator-General of  the  Order.  No  more  fighting  of 
duels  now,  no  more  keeping  the  bailiffs  who  wanted  to 
seize  him  for  debt  at  bay  for  twelve  days  in  an  English 
country  house  which  he  had  fortified  ;  he  submitted  to 
the  severest  rules  of  the  Order,  and  in  1831  made  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land,  and  died  at  Rome  in 
1848. 


XI. 

LONDON 
SEEN  THROUGH  FOREIGN  SPECTACLES. 

TN  the  year  1765  a  Frenchman,  who  did  not  give  his 
-*■  name,  visited  London,  and  afterwards  published  in 
Paris  an  account  of  his  visit. 
'  I  reached  London,'  he  says,  '  towards  the  close  of 
the  day  .  .  .  and  at  last,  quite  by  chance,  I  found 
myself  settled  in  an  apartment  in  the  house  of  the 
Cruishuer  Royal  in  Leicester  Fields.  This  neighbour- 
hood is  filled  with  small  houses,  which  are  mostly  let  to 
foreigners.1  On  the  following  day  he  walked  down 
Holborn  and  the  Strand  to  St.  Paul's,  then  crossed 
London  Bridge,  and  returned  to  his  hotel  by  walking 
through  Southwark  and  Lambeth  to  Westminster,  '  a 
district  full  of  mean  houses  and  meaner  taverns.'  The 
localities  named  have  not  greatly  altered  their  character 
since  then.  In  another  place  our  traveller  says  :  '  Even 
from  the  bridges  it  is  impossible  to  get  a  view  of  the 
liver,  as  the  parapets  are  ten  feet  high.  .  .  .  The  reason 
given  for  all  this  is  the  inclination  which  the  English, 
and  the  Londoners  especially,  have  for  suicide.  It  is 
true    that   above  and   below  the  town  the  banks  are 


118  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

unprotected,  and  offer  an  excellent  opportunity  to  those 
who  really  wish  to  drown  themselves ;  but  the  distance 
is  great,  and,  besides,  those  who  wish  to  lease  the  world 
in  this  manner  prefer  doing  so  before  the  eyes  of  the 
public.  The  parapets,  however,  of  the  new  bridge 
[Black friars]  which  is  being  built  will  be  but  of  an 
ordinary  height. '  Suicidal  tendencies  must  indeed 
have  greatly  declined,  since  the  most  recently  erected 
bridges,  the  new  Westminster  and  Blackfriars,  have 
particularly  low  parapets. 

Of  the  streets  our  author  says :  '  They  are  paved  in 
such  a  manner  that  it  is  barely  possible  to  ride  or  walk 
on  them  in  safety,  and  they  are  always  extremely  dirty. 
.  .  .  The  finest  streets  .  .  .  would  be  impassable  were 
it  not  that  on  each  side  .  .  .  footways  are  made  from 
four  to  five  feet  wide,  and  for  communication  from  one 
to  the  other  across  the  street  there  are  smaller  footways 
elevated  above  the  general  surface  of  the  roadway,  and 
formed  of  large  stones  selected  for  the  purpose.  .  .  . 
In  the  finest  part  of  the  Strand,  near  St.  Clement's 
Church,  I  noticed,  during  the  whole  of  my  stay  in 
London,  that  the  middle  of  the  street  was  constantly 
covered  with  liquid  stinking  mud,  three  or  four  inches 
deep.  .  .  .  The  walkers  are  bespattered  from  head  to 
foot.  .  .  .  The  natives,  however,  brave  all  these  dis- 
agreeables, wrapped  up  in  long  blue  coats,  like  dressing- 
gowns,  wearing  brown  stockings  and  perukes,  rough, 
red  and  frizzled.'' 

Well,  we  cannot  find  much  fault  with  this  descrip- 
tion, unflattering  as  it  is,  for  in  the  last  century  London 
certainly  was  one  of  the  most  hideous  towns  to  live  in,  and 
its  inhabitants  the  most  uncouth,  repulsive  set  of  '  guys* ! 


SEEN  THROUGH  FOREIGN  SPECTACLES   119 

Concerning  Oxford  Street  our  author  makes  a  false 
prognostic  :  'The  shops  of  Oxford  Street  will  disappear 
as  the  houses  are  sought  after  for  private  dwellings  by 
the  rich.  Soon  will  the  great  city  extend  itself  to 
Marylebone,  which  is  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a 
league  distant.  At  present  it  is  a  village,  principally 
of  taverns,  inhabited  by  French  refugees."' 

Our  traveller  sees  but  four  houses  in  London  which 
will  bear  comparison  with  the  great  hotels  in  Paris.  To 
the  inconvenience  of  mud,  he  says,  must  be  added  that 
of  smoke,  which,  mingled  with  a  perpetual  fog,  covers 
London  as  a  pall.  We,  to  our  sorrow,  know  this  to  be 
true  even  now. 

But  we  have  improved  in  one  respect :  our  old  watch- 
men or  '  Charleys  '  have  disappeared  before  the  modern 
police.  Concerning  these  watchmen  our  author  says  : 
'  There  are  no  troops  or  guard  or  watch  of  any  kind, 
except  during  the  night  by  some  old  men,  chosen  from 
the  dregs  of  the  people.  Their  only  arms  are  a  stick  and 
a  lantern.  They  walk  about  the  streets  crying  the  hour 
every  time  the  clock  strikes  .  .  .  and  it  appears  to  be 
a  point  of  etiquette  among  hare-brained  youngsters  to 
maul  them  on  leaving  their  parties.'' 

Our  Frenchman  formed  a  correct  estimate  of  the 
London  watchman  of  his  day — nay,  it  held  good  to  the 
final  extinction  of  the  '  Charleys.1  In  December,  1826, 
a  watchman  was  charged  before  the  Lord  Mayor  with 
insubordination.  On  being  asked  who  had  appointed 
him  watchman,  the  prisoner  replied  that  he  was  in 
great  distress  and  a  burden  to  the  parish,  who  therefore 
gave  him  the  appointment  to  get  rid  of  him.  The 
Lord  Mayor  :    '  I  thought   so  ;    and   what  can   be  ex- 


120  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

pected  from  such  a  system  of  choosing  watchmen  ?  I 
know  that  most  of  the  men  who  are  thus  burdens  on 
the  parish  are  the  vilest  of  wretches,  and  such  men  are 
appointed  to  guard  the  lives  and  property  of  others  !  I 
also  know  that  in  most  cases  robberies  are  perpetrated 
by  the  connivance  of  watchmen.' 

But  in  some  cases  our  author  is  really  too  good- 
naturedly  credulous.  Says  he  :  '  The  people  of  London, 
though  proud  and  hasty,  are  good  at  heart,  and 
humane,  even  in  the  lowest  class.  If  any  stoppage 
occurs  in  the  streets,  they  are  always  ready  to  lend  their 
assistance  to  remove  the  difficulty,  instead  of  raising  a 
quarrel,  which  might  end  in  murder,  as  is  often  the  case 
in  Paris.1  This  is  really  too  innocent !  And  our 
French  visitor  must  have  been  very  fortunate  indeed 
never  to  have  got  into  a  London  crowd  of  roughs  or  of 
pickpockets,  who  create  stoppages  in  the  streets  for  the 
only  purpose  of  pursuing  their  trade,  and  who  seldom 
hesitate  to  commit  violence  if  they  cannot  rob  without 
it.  Our  author's  belief,  indeed,  in  London  honesty  is 
boundless.  '  In  order  that  the  pot-boys,1  he  says,  '  may 
have  but  little  trouble  in  collecting  them  [the  pewter 
pots  in  which  publicans  send  out  the  beer],  they  are 
placed  in  the  open  passages,  and  sometimes  on  the 
doorsteps  of  the  houses.  I  saw  them  thus  exposed  .  .  . 
and  felt  quite  assured  against  all  the  cunning  of  thieves.1 
But  more  astounding  is  the  statement  that  there  are 
no  poor  in  London  !  '  A  consequence,1  says  our  visitor, 
'  of  its  rich  and  numerous  charitable  establishments 
and  the  immense  sums  raised  by  the  poor-rates,  which 
impost  is  one  which  the  little  householders  pay  most 
cheerfully,  as  they  consider  it  a  fund  from  which,  in  the 


SEEN  THROUGH  FOREIGN  SPECTACLES   121 

event  of  their  death,  their  wives  and  children  will  he 
supported.1  Fancy  a  little  householder  paying  his  poor- 
rate  cheerfully  !  And  what  a  mean  opinion  must  our 
author  have  had  of  the  spirit  of  the  householder  who 
calmly  contemplated  his  family,  after  his  death,  going 
to  the  parish  ! 

The  Frenchman  returns  once  more  to  our  usual 
melancholy,  '  which,1  he  says,  '  is  no  doubt  owing  to  the 
fogs 1  and  to  our  fat  meat  and  strong  beer.  '  Beef  is 
the  Englishman's  ordinary  diet,  relished  in  proportion 
to  the  quantity  of  fat,  and  this,  mixed  in  their  stomachs 
with  the  beer  they  drink,  must  produce  a  chyle,  whose 
viscous  heaviness  conveys  only  bilious  and  melancholic 
vapours  to  the  brain.1 

It  certainly  is  satisfactory  to  have  so  scientific  an  ex- 
planation of  the  origin  of  our  spleen. 

Another  French  writer  in  1784 — M.  La  Combe — 
published  a  book,  entitled  'A  Picture  of  London,1  in 
which,  inter  alia,  he  says  :  '  The  highroads  thirty  or 
forty  miles  round  London  are  filled  with  armed  high- 
waymen and  footpads.1  This  was  then  pretty  true, 
though  the  expression  '  filled 1  is  somewhat  of  an 
exaggeration.  The  medical  student  of  forty  or  fifty 
years  ago  seems  to  have  been  anticipated  in  1784,  for 
M".  La  Combe  tells  us  that  'the  brass  knockers  of  doors, 
which  cost  from  12s.  to  15s.,  are  stolen  at  night  if  the 
maid  forgets  to  unscrew  them  ' — a  precaution  which 
seems  to  have  gone  out  of  fashion.  '  The  arrival  of  the 
mails,1  our  author  says,  '  is  uncertain  at  all  times  of 
the  year.  .  .  .  Persons  who  frequently  receive  letters 
should  recommend  their  correspondents  not  to  insert 
loose  papers,  nor  to  put   the  letters  in  covers,  because 


122  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  tux  is  sometimes  treble,  and  always  arbitrary, 
though  in  a  free  country.  But  rapacity  and  injustice 
are  the  deities  of  the  Eno-Hsh.1  M.  La  Combe  does  not 
give  us  a  flattering  character.  '  An  Englishman,1  he 
says,  '  considers  a  foreigner  as  an  enemy,  whom  he  dares 
not  offend  openly,  but  whose  society  he  fears ;  and  he 
attaches  himself  to  no  one."'  Perhaps  it  was  so  in  1784, 
but  such  feelings  have  nearly  died  out — at  least,  among 
educated  people.  M.  La  Combe,  in  another  part  of  his 
book,  exclaims :  '  How  are  you  changed,  Londoners  !  .  .  . 
Your  women  are  become  bold,  imperious,  and  expensive. 
Bankrupts  and  beggars,  coiners,  spies  and  informers, 
robbers  and  pickpockets  abound.  .  .  .  The  baker  mixes 
alum  in  his  bread  .  .  .  the  brewer  puts  opium  and 
copper  filings  in  his  beer  .  .  .  the  milkwoman  spoils 
her  milk  with  snails.1 

Do  more  recent  writers  judge  of  us  more  correctly  ? 
We  shall  see. 

I  have  lying  before  me  a  French  book,  the  title  of 
which,  translated  into  English,  runs,  '  Geography  for 
Young  People.1  It  is  in  its  eighth  edition,  and  written 
by  M.  Levi,  Professor  of  Belles-Lettres,  of  History  and 
Geography  in  Paris.  The  date  of  the  book  is  1850. 
The  Professor  in  it  describes  London,  and  if  his  pupils 
ever  have,  or  rather  had,  occasion  to  visit  our  capital, 
they  must  have  been  unable  to  recognise  it  from  their 
teacher's  description  of  it.  Among  the  many  blunders 
he  commits,  there  are  some  which  are  excusable  in  a 
foreigner,  because  they  refer  to  matters  which  are 
often  misapprehended  even  by  natives ;  but  to  describe 
London  as  possessing  a  certain  architectural  feature 
which  a  mere  walk  through  the  streets  with   his  eyes 


SEEN  THROUGH  FOREIGN  SPECTACLES    123 

open  would  have  shown  him  to  have  no  existence  at  all 
is  rather  unpardonable  in  a  professor  who  takes  on  him- 
self to  teach  young  people  geography.  But  what  does 
M.  Levi  say  ?  He  says  :  '  In  London  you  never  see  an 
umbrella,  because  all  the  streets  are  built  with  arcades, 
under  which  you  find  shelter  when  it  rains,  so  that  an 
umbrella,  which  to  us  Parisians  is  an  indispensable 
article,  is  perfectly  useless  to  a  Londoner.1  M.  Levi 
evidently,  if  ever  he  was  in  London,  visited  the 
Quadrant  only,  before  the  arcade  was  pulled  down,  and 
thereupon  wrote  his  account  of  London.  Yet  he  must 
have  looked  about  a  bit,  for  he  tells  us  of  splendid  cafes 
to  be  met  with  in  every  street ;  the  nobility  patronize 
them ;  '  one  of  them  accidentally  treads  on  the  toes  of 
another,  a  duel  is  the  consequence,  and  to-morrow 
morning  one  of  them  will  have  ceased  to  live.'' 

M.  Levi  reminds  us  of  the  Frenchman  who  came  over 
to  England  with  the  object  of  writing  a  book  about  us. 
He  arrived  in  London  one  Saturday  night,  and  being- 
tired,  at  once  went  to  bed.  At  breakfast  next  morning- 
he  asked  for  new  bread ;  the  waiter  told  him  they  only 
had  yesterday's.  Out  came  the  Frenchman's  note-book, 
in  which  he  wrote :  '  In  London  the  bread  is  always 
baked  the  day  before.''  He  then  asked  for  the  day's 
paper,  but  was  again  told  they  had  yesterday's  only. 
A  memorandum  went  into  the  note-book  :  '  The  London 
newspapers  are  always  published  yesterday.'  He  then 
thought  he  would  present  the  letter  of  introduction  he 
had  brought  with  him  to  a  private  family,  so  having 
been  directed  to  the  house,  he  saw  a  lady  near  the 
window,  reading.  Not  wishing  to  startle  or  disturb 
her,  he   gave    a   gentle    single    rap.      This    not    being 


124  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

answered,  he  had  to  give  a  few  more  raps,  when  at  last 
a  servant  partly  opened  the  door  and  asked  his  business. 
He  expressed  his  wish  to  see  the  master  of  the  house. 
'  Master  never  sees  anybody  to-day,  but  he  will  perhaps 
to-morrow,1  replied  the  servant,  and  shut  the  door  in 
his  face.  Another  memorandum  was  added  to  the 
previous  ones :  '  In  London  people  never  see  anyone 
to-day,  but  always  to-morrow.'  Having  nothing  to  do, 
he  thought  he  would  go  to  the  theatre.  He  inquired 
for  Drury  Lane,  and  was  directed  to  it.  The  doors 
being  shut,  he  lounged  about  the  neighbourhood  till 
they  should  open.  As  it  grew  later  and  later,  and 
there  was  no  sign  of  a  queue,  he  at  last  addressed  a 
passer-by,  and  asked  him  when  the  theatre  would  open. 
'  It  won't  open  to-day,'  was  the  reply.  This  was  the 
last  straw  that  broke  the  camel's  back.  Our  French- 
man hurried  back  to  his  hotel,  wrote  in  his  note-book, 
'  In  London  there  are  theatres,  but  they  never  open  to- 
day,' took  a  cab,  caught  the  night  mail,  and  hastened 
to  leave  so  barbarous  a  country. 

This  description  of  London  life  is  about  as  correct  as 
that  recently  given  in  Max  O'Rell's  '  John  Bull  and  his 
Womankind.'     What  kind  of  people  did  OTlell  visit  ? 

I  look  at  another  book  before  me,  written  in  Italian, 
and  entitled :  '  Semi-serious  Observations  of  an  Exile 
on  England.'  The  book  was  published  at  Lugano  in 
1831,  but  the  author — Giuseppe  Fecchio — dates  his 
preface  from  York  in  1827. 

He  speaks  thusly  of  the  approach  to  London  by  the 
Dover  road  :  '  If  the  sky  is  gloomy,  the  first  aspect  of 
London  is  no  less  so.  The  smoky  look  of  the  houses 
gives  them  the  appearance  of  a  recent  fire.     If  to  this 


SEEN  THROUGH  FOREIGN  SPECTACLES    125 

you  add  the  silence  prevailing  amidst  a  population  of  a 
million  and  a  half  of  inhabitants,  all  in  motion  (so  that 
you  seem  to  behold  a  stage  full  of  Chinese  shadows), 
and  the  uniformity  of  the  houses,  as  if  you  were  in  a 
city  of  beavers,  you  will  easily  understand  that  on 
entering  into  such  a  beehive  pleasure  gives  way  to 
astonishment.  This  is  the  old  country  style,  but  since 
the  English  have  substituted  blue  pills  for  suicide,  or, 
still  better,  have  made  a  journey  to  Paris — since,  instead 
of  Young's  "  Night  Thoughts,'11  they  read  the  novels  of 
Walter  Scott,  they  have  rendered  their  houses  a  little 
more  pleasing  in  outward  appearance.  In  the  West 
End  especially  they  have  adopted  a  more  cheerful  style 
of  architecture.  But  I  do  not  by  this  mean  to  imply 
that  the  English  themselves  have  become  more  lively ; 
they  still  take  delight  in  ghosts,  witchcraft,  cemeteries, 
and  similar  horrors.  Woe  to  the  author  who  writes  a 
novel  without  some  apparition  to  make  your  hair  stand 
on  end  I1 

In  speaking  of  the  thinness  of  the  walls  and  floors  of 
London  houses,  he  says :  '  I  could  hear  the  murmur  of 
the  conversation  of  the  tenant  of  the  room  above  and 
of  that  of  the  one  below  me ;  from  time  to  time  the 
words  "  very  fine  weather,1''  "  indeed,11 "  very  fine,11  "  com- 
fort,11 "comfortable,11  "great  comfort,11  reached  my 
ears.  In  fact,  the  houses  are  ventriloquous.  As 
already  mentioned,  they  are  all  alike.  In  a  three- 
storied  house  there  are  three  perpendicular  bedrooms, 
one  above  the  other,  and  three  parlours,  equally  so 
superposed.1  Wc  know  how  much  of  this  description  is 
true. 

'  Why  are  the  English,"  he  asks, '  not  expert  dancers  ? 


126  LONDON  SOUVENIR? 

Because  they  cannot  practise  dancing  in  their  slightly- 
built  houses,  in  which  a  lively  caper  would  at  once  send 
the  third-floor  down  into  the  kitchen.  This  is  the 
reason  why  the  English  gesticulate  so  little,  and  have 
their  arms  always  glued  to  their  sides.  The  rooms  are 
so  small  that  you  cannot  move  about  rapidly  without 
smashing  some  object,"1  or,  as  we  should  say,  you  cannot 
swing  a  cat  in  them. 

'  Strangers  are  astounded,'  continues  our  author,  '  at 
the  silence  prevailing  among  the  inhabitants  of  London. 
But  how  could  a  million  and  a  half  of  people  live 
together  without  silence  ?  The  noise  of  men,  horses, 
and  carriages  between  the  Strand  and  the  Exchange  is 
so  great  that  it  is  said  that  in  winter  there  are  two 
degrees  of  difference  in  the  thermometers  of  the  City 
and  of  the  West  End.  I  have  not  verified  it,"1  our 
author  is  candid  enough  to  admit,  '  but  considering  the 
great  number  of  chimneys  in  the  Strand,  it  is  probable 
enough.  From  Chering  [sic]  Cross  to  the  Exchange  is 
the  cyclopedia  of  the  world.  Anarchy  seems  to  prevail, 
but  it  is  only  apparent.  The  rules  which  Gray  gives 
(in  his  "Trivia;  or,  the  Art  of  Walking  the  Streets  of 
London 1V)  seem  to  me  un necessary. , 

Signor  Pecchio  pretty  well  describes  the  movements 
of  '  City  men , : 

'  The  great  monster  of  the  capital,1  he  says,  '  similar 
to  a  huge  giant,  waking  up,  begins  by  giving  signs  of 
life  at  its  extremities.  The  movement  begins  at  the 
circumference,  gradually  extending  to  the  centre,  until 
about  ten  o'clock  the  uproar  begins,  increasing  till  four 
o'clock,  which  is  the  hour  for  going  on  'Change.  The 
population  seems  to  follow  the  law  of  the  tides.     Up 


SEEN  THROUGH  FOREIGN  SPECTACLES   127 

to  that  hour  the  tide  rises  from  the  periphery  to  the 
Exchange.  At  half- past  four,  when  the  Exchange 
closes,  the  ebh  sets  in,  and  currents  of  men,  horses,  and 
carriages  flow  from  the  Exchange  to  the  periphery.1 

Like  all  foreigners,  he  has  something  to  say  about 
the  dulness  of  an  English  Sunday.  'This  country,  all 
in  motion,  all  alive  on  other  days  of  the  week,1  he 
observes,  '  seems  struck  with  an  attack  of  apoplexy  on 
the  Lord's  day.1  Foreigners  pass  the  day  at  Greenwich 
or  Richmond,  where  '  they  pay  dearly  for  a  dinner, 
seasoned  with  the  bows  of  a  waiter  in  silk  stockings 
and  brown  livery,  just  like  the  dress  of  a  Turin  lawyer." 
But  if  you  want  to  see  how  John  Bull  spends  the  day, 
it  is  not  in  Hyde  Park  or  Kensington  Gardens  you 
must  look  for  him.  '  If  you  want  to  see  that  marvellous 
personage  who  is  the  wonder  and  laughing-stock  of  all 
Europe,  who  clothes  all  the  world,  wins  battles  on  land 
and  sea  without  much  boasting,  who  works  like  three 
and  drinks  like  six,  who  is  the  pawnbroker  and  usurer 
of  all  Kings  and  all  Republics,  whilst  he  is  bankrupt  at 
home,  and  sometimes,  like  Midas,  dies  of  hunger  in  the 
midst  of  gold,  you  must  look  for  him  elsewhere.  In 
winter  you  must  descend  into  underground  cellars. 
There,  around  a  blazing  fire,  you  will  behold  the 
English  workman,  well  dressed  and  shod,  smoking, 
drinking,  and  reading.  .  .  .  For  this  class  of  readers 
special  Sunday  newspapers  are  published.  ...  It  is  in 
these  taverns,  and  amidst  the  smoke  of  tobacco  and  the 
froth  of  their  beer,  the  first  condition  of  public  opinion 
is  born  and  formed.  It  is  there  the  conduct  of  every 
citizen  is  discussed  and  appraised  ;  there  starts  the  road 
which  leads  to  the  Capitol  or  the  Tarpeian  rock ;  there 


128  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

praise  or  blame  is  awarded  to  a  Burdett  issuing 
triumphantly  from  the  Tower,  or  to  a  Castlereagh 
descending  amidst  curses  to  the  tomb.  .  .  .  There  are 
no  rows  in  these  taverns  .  .  .  more  decency  of  conduct 
is  observed  in  them  than  in  our  [Italian]  churches. 
When  full  of  spirit  and  beer  the  customers,  instead  of 
fighting,  fall  down  on  the  pavement  like  dead  men.'' 

After  having  so  carefully  observed  the  conduct  of  the 
British  workman,  our  Italian  friend  watches  him  in  the 
suburban  tea-garden,  which  he  visits  with  his  family  to 
take  tea  in  the  afternoon,  or  drink  his  nut-brown  ale. 
'  One  of  the  handsomest,1  he  says,  '  is  Cumberland 
Gardens,*  close  to  Vauxhall  .  .  .  there  he  sits  smoking 
long  pipes  of  the  whitest  clay,  which  the  landlord 
supplies,  filled  with  tobacco,  at  one  penny  each. 
Between  his  puffs  of  smoke  he  occasionally  sends  forth 
a  truncated  phrase,  such  as  we  read  in  "  Tristram  Sandi ,1 
[sic]  were  uttered  by  Trion  and  the  captain.  It  being 
Sunday,  which  admits  of  no  amusement,  no  music  or 
song  is  heard.''  Pretty  much  as  it  is  at  the  present 
day ! 

Having  heard  what  both  Frenchmen  and  an  Italian 
had  to  say  about  London,  let  us  listen  to  what  a 
German  authoress  has  to  tell  us  on  the  subject. 

Johanna  Schopenhauer,  in  her  '  Travels  through 
England  and  Scotland '  (third  edition,  1826),  says : 
'  The  splendid  shops,  which  offer  the  finest  sights,  are 
situate  chiefly  between  the  working  City  and  the  more 
aristocratic,  enjoying  Westminster,''  a  statement  which, 

*  In  the  early  part  of  1825,  therefore  shortly  after  our  author 
wrote,  the  tavern  was  burnt  to  the  ground,  and  the  site  taken 
possession  of  by  the  South  London  Waterworks. 


SEEN  THROUGH  FOREIGN  SPECTACLES    129 

as  every  Londoner  knows,  is  only  partially  correct. 
'  The  English  custom  of  always  making  way  to  the  right 
greatly  facilitates  walking,  so  that  there  is  no  pushing 
or  running  against  anyone.1  Did  our  author  ever  take 
a  walk  in  Cheapside  or  Fleet  Street  ?  '  Even  Italians 
probably  do  not  fear  rain  so  much  as  a  Londoner ;  to 
catch  a  wetting  seems  to  them  the  most  terrible  mis- 
fortune; on  the  first  falling  of  a  few  drops  everyone  not 
provided  with  an  umbrella  hastens  to  take  refuge  in  a 
coach.1  How  well  the  lady  has  studied  the  habits  of 
Londoners  !     What  will  they  say  to  this  ? 

'The  police  exercise  a  strict  control  over  hackney- 
coaches.  Woe  to  the  driver  who  ventures  to  over- 
charge I1  And  again  :  '  You  may  safely  enter,  carrying 
with  you  untold  wealth,  a  coach  at  any  time  of  the 
night,  as  long  as  someone  at  the  house  whence  you 
start  takes  the  number  of  the  coach,  and  lets  the  driver 
see  that  it  is  taken.1 

Mrs.  Schopenhauer  tells  us  that  it  is  customary  to  go 
for  breakfast  to  a  pastry-cook's  shop,  and  eat  a  few 
cakes  hot  from  the  pan.  Truly,  we  did  not  know  it. 
Of  course,  she  agrees  with  other  writers  as  to  the  small- 
ness  of  the  houses,  every  room  of  which  you  can  tell 
from  the  outside ;  but  we  were  not  aware  that,  as  she 
informs  us,  all  the  doors  are  exceedingly  narrow  and 
high,  and  that  frequently  the  front-doors  look  only  like 
narrow  slits  in  the  wall. 

'  Bedrooms  seldom  can  contain  more  than  one  bed  ; 
but  English  bedsteads  are  large  enough  to  hold  three 
persons.  And  it  is  a  universal  custom  not  to  sleep 
alone ;  sisters,  relations,  and  female  friends  share  a  bed 
without  ceremony,  and  the  mistress  of  the  house  is  not 

<J 


130  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

ashamed  to  take  her  servant  to  bed  with  her,  for  English 
ladies  are  afraid  of  being  alone  in  a  room  at  night, 
having  never  been  brought  up  to  it.  .  .  .  The  counter- 
pane is  fastened  to  the  mattress,  leaving  but  an  opening 
for  slipping  in  between  the  two.*1 

Again,  we  are  told  to  our  astonishment :  '  The  majority 
of  Londoners,  workmen  and  shopkeepers,  who  form  but 
one  category,  on  the  whole  lead  sad  lives.  Heavy  taxes, 
the  high  prices  of  necessaries,  extravagance  of  dress, 
compel  them  to  observe  a  frugality  of  living  which,  in 
other  countries,  would  be  called  poverty. 

'  The  shopkeeper,  for  ever  tied  to  his  shop  and  the 
dark  parlour  behind,  must  deny  himself  every  amuse- 
ment. Theatres  are  too  far  off  and  too  expensive ;  the 
wife  of  a  well-to-do  tradesman  seldom  can  visit  one 
more  than  twice  a  year. 

'  During  the  week  they  cannot  leave  the  shop  between 
nine  in  the  morning  and  twelve  at  night.  The  wife 
generally  attends  to  it,  while  the  husband  sits  in  the 
parlour  behind  and  keeps  the  accounts.  True,  on  Sun- 
days all  the  shops  are  closed,  but  so  are  the  theatres, 
and  as  all  domestics  and  other  employes  insist  on  having 
that  day  to  themselves,  the  mistress  has  to  stay  at  home 
to  take  care  of  the  house. 

4  Merchants  lead  lives  nearly  as  dull.  They  have  to 
deny  themselves  social  pleasures  indulged  in  by  the  rich 
merchants  of  Hamburg  or  Leipsic.  English  ladies  are 
more  domesticated,  and  not  accustomed  to  the  bustle  of 
public  amusements.  But  their  husbands,  after  business 
hours,  occasionally  seek  for  recreation  in  cafes  and 
taverns.1 

How  very  one-sided  and  imperfect  a  view  of  English 


SEEN  THROUGH  FOREIGN  SPECTACLES    131 

middle  life,  even  as  it  was  seventy  years  ago,  when  these 
remarks  were  written,  is  presented  to  us  by  them  is  self- 
evident  ! 

English  ladies,  according  to  our  author,  'seldom  go 
out,  and  when  they  do,  they  prefer  a  shopping  excursion 
to  every  other  kind  of  promenade.  They  also  are  fond 
of  visiting  pastry-cooks'1  shops,  and  as  these  are  open  to 
the  street,  ladies  may  safely  enter  them.  But  that  is 
not  allowable  at  Mr.  Birch's  in  Cornhill,  whose  shop 
ladies  cannot  visit  without  being  accompanied  by  gentle- 
men, the  breakfast-room  being  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
at  the  end  of  a  long  passage,  and  lit  up  all  the  year 
round  (as  daylight  does  not  penetrate  into  it)  with  wax 
candles,  by  the  light  of  which  ladies  and  gentlemen — 
usually  amidst  solemn  silence — swallow  their  turtle-soup 
and  small  hot  patties.  The  house  supplies  nothing 
else  .  .  .  but  its  former  proprietor,  Master  Horton,  by 
his  patties  and  soup  made  a  fortune  of  one  hundred 
thousand  pounds,  and  his  successor  seems  in  a  fair  way 
of  doing  the  same.1  We  hope  the  assumption  was 
verified. 

According  to  Mrs.  Schopenhauer,  Londoners  are  not 
very  hospitable,  and  '  prefer  entertaining  a  friend  they 
invite  to  dinner  at  a  coffee-house  or  tavern,  rather  than 
at  their  own  homes,  where  the  presence  of  ladies  is  a 
restraint  upon  them.  Ladies  are  treated  with  great 
respect,  but,  like  all  personages  imposing  respect,  they 
are  avoided  as  much  as  possible.1 

Our  traveller  must  have  come  in  contact  with  some 
very  ungallant  Englishmen.  She  describes  a  dinner  at 
a  private  house ;  we  are  told  that  '  there  are  twelve  to 
fourteen  guests,  who  fill   the  small   drawing-room,   the 

9—2 


132  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

ladies  sitting  in  armchairs,  whilst  the  gentlemen  stand 
about,  some  warming  themselves  by  the  fire,  often  in  a 
not  very  decent  manner.  At  the  dinner-table  napkins 
are  found  only  in  houses  which  have  acquired  foreign 
polish,  and  they  are  not  many.  The  tablecloth  hangs 
down  to  the  floor,  and  every  guest  takes  it  upon  his 
knee,  and  uses  it  as  a  napkin.  .  .  .  The  lady  of  the 
house  serves  the  dishes,  and  there  is  no  end  to  her 
questions  put  to  her  guests  as  to  the  seasoning,  the 
part  of  the  joint,  the  sauce,  etc.,  they  like,1  questions 
which  are  exceedingly  troublesome  to  a  foreigner  who 
is  not  up  to  all  the  technical  terms  of  English  cookery. 
Of  course,  the  hobnobbing  and  taking  wine  with  every- 
body— a  fashion  now  happily  abolished — comes  in  for  a 
good  deal  of  censure,  which,  indeed,  is  richly  deserved. 
'  Conversation  on  any  subject  of  interest  is  out  of  the 
question  during  dinner ;  were  anyone  to  attempt  it,  the 
master  would  immediately  interrupt  him  with,  "  Sir, 
you  are  losing  your  dinner ;  by-and-by  we  will  discuss 
these  matters.11  The  ladies  from  sheer  modesty  speak 
but  little  ;  foreigners  must  beware  from  saying  much, 
lest  they  be  considered  monstrous  bold.1 

Whilst,  after  dinner,  the  gentlemen  sit  over  their 
wine,  the  ladies  are  yawning  the  time  away  in  the 
drawing-room,  until  their  hostess  sends  word  down  to 
the  dining-room  that  tea  is  ready.  '  It  is  said,1  con- 
tinues our  author,  'that  the  slow  or  quick  attention 
given  to  this  message  shows  who  is  master  in  the 
house,  the  husband  or  the  wife.1  Long  after  midnight 
the  guests  drive  home  '  through  the  streets  still  swarm- 
ing with  people.  All  the  shops  are  still  open,  and 
lighted  up  ;  the  street-lamps,  of  course,  are  alight,  and 


SEEN  THROUGH  FOREIGN  SPECTACLES    133 

burn  till  the  rising  of  the  sun.'  Has  any  Londoner 
ever  seen  all  the  shops  open  and  lighted  np  all  night  ? 
Did  our  author  have  visions  ? 

A  London  Sunday,  of  course,  is  commented  on.  The 
complaint  raised  quite  recently  by  some  of  our  bishops 
seems  but  a  revival  of  wai  lings  uttered  long  ago,  for  we 
learn  from  Mrs.  Schopenhauer  that  in  her  time  (sixty 
years  ago)  'some  of  the  highest  families  in  the  kingdom 
were  called  to  account  for  desecrating  the  Sabbath  with 
amateur  concerts,  dances,  and  card-playing,'  so  that  it 
would  indeed  seem  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun. 
'The  genuine  Englishman,1  says  our  authoress,  'divides 
his  time  on  Sundays  between  church  and  the  bottle;  his 
wife  spends  the  hours  her  religious  duties  leave  her  with 
a  gossip,  and  abuses  her  neighbours  and  acquaintances, 
which  is  quite  lawful  on  Sundays.'1 

We  allow  Mrs.  Schopenhauer  to  make  her  bow  and 
retire  with  this  parting  shot.  Still,  that  lady  was  not 
singular  in  attributing  great  drinking  powers  to  Eng- 
lishmen. M.  Larcher,  who  in  1861  published  a  book 
entitled  'Les  Anglais,  Londres  et  rAngleterre,1  says 
therein  that  in  good  societv  the  ladies  after  dinner 
retire  into  another  room,  after  having  partaken  very 
moderately  of  wine,  while  the  gentlemen  are  left  to 
empty  bottles  of  port,  madeira,  claret,  and  champagne. 
'  And  it  is,1  he  adds,  '  a  constant  habit  among  the  ladies 
to  empty  bottles  of  brandy.1  And  he  quotes  from  a 
work  by  General  Pillet :  '  Towards  forty  years  of  age 
every  well-bred  English  lady  goes  to  bed  intoxicated.1 

M.  Jules  Lecomte  says  in  his  '  Journey  of  Troubles 
to  London '  ('  Un  Voyage  de  Desagrements  a  Londres,1 
1854)  that  he  accompanied  a  blonde  English  miss  to 


134  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  Exhibition  in  Hyde  Park,  where  at  one  sitting  she 
ate  six  shillings"1  worth  of  cake  resembling  a  black  brick 
ornamented  with  currants. 

According  to  M.  Francis  Wey's  account  of  'The 
English  at  Home'CLes  Anglais  chez  Eux,1  1856),  at 
Cremorne  Gardens  the  popular  refreshment,  and  par- 
ticularly with  an  Oxford  theologian,  is  ginger-beer. 
M.  Wey  probably  means  shandy-gaff.  He  agrees  with 
M.  Lecomte :  the  consumption  of  food  by  one  English 
young  lady  would  suffice  for  four  Paris  porters  ! 

A  Russian  visitor  to  London,  the  '  Own  Correspon- 
dent 1  of  the  Northern  Bee  Russian  newspaper,  who 
inspected  London  in  1881,  asserts,  in  his  'England  and 
Russia,''  that  any  English  miss  of  eighteen  is  capable  of 
imbibing  sundry  glasses  of  wine  '  without  making  a 
face.1 

In  the  Daily  Graphic  of  November  1,  1893,  a  state- 
ment appeared,  according  to  which  a  French  journalist 
at  this  present  day  informs  the  world,  through  Le  Jour, 
that  in  London — nay,  in  all  England — not  one  cyclist 
is  to  be  found,  the  Government  having  rigidly  sup- 
pressed them.  Well,  M.  Levi  has  told  us  that  there 
are  no  umbrellas  in  London  ;  now  we  learn  that  there 
are  no  cyclists  (how  we  wish  this  were  true !).  What 
curious  information  we  get  from  France  about  our- 
selves  ! 

When  will  travellers  leave  off  being  Mi'mchausens  ? 


XII. 
OLD  LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS.* 

I. — The  Galleried  Taverns  of  Old  London. 

OLD  London  abounded  in  taverns.  A  folio  volume 
might  be  filled  with  accounts  of  the  more  im- 
portant of  them,  but  as  we  have  only  a  limited 
number  of  pages  at  our  command,  we  shall  confine  our- 
selves to  the  description  of  one  peculiarly  characteristic 
sort  of  them,  namely,  the  taverns  with  galleried  court- 
yards, and,  in  consequence  of  their  great  number,  our 
notice  of  each  will  have  to  be  brief. 

These  old  taverns,  very  few  of  which  are  now  left 
standing,  formed,  architecturally,  squares,  the  buildings 
surrounding  a  yard,  furnished  on  three  sides  with  outer 
galleries  to  the  floors  above ;  and  the  reason  why  this 

*  This  chapter  is  based  on  ancient  and  modern  histories  of 
London  ;  on  works  treating  of  special  localities  ;  on  essays  in 
periodical  publications  ;  on  the  Transactions  of  Antiquarian 
and  other  Societies,  and  as  it  is  not  a  product  of  imagination, 
but  of  research,  nothing  new  to  the  student,  but  a  great  deal 
new  to  the  general  reader,  may  be  expected  ;  though  the  stones 
are  old,  the  house  is  new. 


136  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

form  of  construction  was  adopted  was  because  then  the 
yards  were  rendered  suitable  for  theatrical  representa- 
tions,  which,   before  the  erection   of  regular  theatres, 
were  usually  given  in  inn-yards.     Access  to  these  yards 
was  obtained   either  through  the  part    of  the   tavern 
facing    the    street,   or  through    the   gateway,  through 
which    coaches,  carts  and  waggons  entered    the  yard. 
The  stage  was  erected,  in  a  primitive  and   temporary 
manner,  behind  the  front  portion   of  the  square,  and 
faced   the  galleries  at  the  back  and  sides  of  it.     The 
yard    itself   then    formed    the    pit,    and    the    galleries 
the  boxes  of  the  theatre.     A  yard  so  surrounded  by 
galleries,  with  their  banisters  or  open  panels,  often  of 
elegant  design,  looked  very  picturesque  ;  but  did  this 
style  of  construction  contribute  to  the  comfort  of  the 
guests?      Scarcely.       The    ground -floors    of  the   inn- 
buildings,  on  the  level  of  the  yard,  were  given  up  to 
stables,  coach-houses,  store-rooms,  etc.     Access  to  the 
galleries  was  obtained  by  staircases,  often  steep,  twisted 
and  narrow  ;  along  the  galleries  were  the  bedrooms,  the 
doors,  and  frequently  the  windows,  of  which  opened  on 
to  them,  and   there  were  no  other  means  of  reaching 
these  rooms.     Now,  consider  that  these  galleries  were 
open,   exposed   to  all   the  changes  of  the  weather,   to 
wind,  rain,  hail,  sleet  and  snow,  which  must  have  been 
very  trying,  especially  at  night,  when  the  bedrooms  had 
to  be  entered  by  the  light  of  a  candle,  difficult  to  keep 
burning,  whilst  the  wind  was  driving  rain  or  snow  into 
the  gallery.     Remember  also  that  the  roughly  paved 
yard  and  the  stables  surrounding  it  were  full  of  noises, 
not  only  during  the  day,  but  all  the  night  through. 
There  were  the  horses   kicking,  coaches  and  waggons 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS    137 

constantly  coming  in  through  the  gateway,  or  going 
out,  stablemen,  coachmen,  carters  shouting,  horses  being 
harnessed  to  carts,  and  other  vehicles  starting  early  in 
the  morning  on  their  journeys,  and  the  rest  of  the 
sleepers  in  the  bedrooms  along  the  galleries  must  have 
been  sadly  interfered  with.  Nor  can  the  smell  arising 
from  the  stables  and  from  the  manure  heap,  all  confined 
within  the  well  formed  by  the  surrounding  buildings, 
have  added  to  the  comfort  of  the  guests  staying  at  the 
inn.  As  the  bar  of  the  inn  frequently  was  in  the  yard, 
the  noises  made  by  its  visitors,  and  the  quarrels  they 
occasionally  indulged  in,  and  which  often  would  be 
settled  by  a  fight  in  the  yard,  were  not  calculated  to 
promote  sound  sleep.  But  our  ancestors  were  not  so 
particular  in  these  matters ;  even  aristocratic  quarters 
of  London  were  given  up  to  dirt  and  rowdyism.  In 
St.  James's  Square  offal,  cinders,  dead  cats  and  dogs 
were  shot  under  the  very  windows  of  the  gilded  saloons 
in  which  the  first  magnates  of  the  land — Norfolks, 
Ormonds,  Kents  and  Pembrokes — gave  banquets  and 
balls.  Lord  Macau  lay  quotes  the  condition  of  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields  as  a  striking  example  of  the  indifference  felt 
by  the  most  polite  and  splendid  members  of  society  in 
a  former  age  to  what  would  now  be  deemed  the 
common  decencies  of  life.  But  the  poorest  cottage  and 
the  meanest  galleried  inn-yard  look  well  in  a  picture. 
Be  glad  that  you  have  not  to  live  in  either.  But  a  few 
generations  ago,  as  we  have  pointed  out,  tastes  and 
habits  were  different,  and  even  now  there  are  old  fogeys 
so  wedded  to  ancient  customs  that  they  still  patronize 
the  dark  boxes  yet  found  in  some  antiquated  taverns, 
which  afford  room  for  four  or  six  customers,  who  have 


138  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

to  sit  upright  against  the  perpendicular  backs  of  the 
boxes,  lest  they  slide  off'  the  twelve-inch-wide  shelves  on 
which  they  have  to  perch  and  disappear  under  the  table. 
Strange  were  the  customs  of  the  days  referred  to.  The 
people  seemed  to  live  in  taverns,  physicians  met  their 
patients  and  apothecaries  there,  lawyers  their  clients, 
business  men  their  customers,  people  of  fashion  their 
acquaintances.  '  Even  men  of  fortune,"1  says  Macaulay, 
'  who  might  in  their  own  mansions  have  enjoyed  every 
luxury,  were  often  in  the  habit  of  passing  their  even- 
ings in  the  parlour  of  some  neighbouring  house  of 
public  entertainment,"'  in  the  company  of  ill-bred,  loud 
talking,  roisterous  and  spittoon-patronizing  smokers. 
Johnson  declared  that  the  tavern  chair  was  the  throne 
of  human  felicity.  To  him  it  was,  because  there  he 
found  his  toadies,  whom  he  could  bully  to  his  heart's 
content.     But  the  man  who  could  say 

'  My  mini  to  me  a  kingdom  is  ' 

did  not  care  to  sit  on  such  a  throne. 

But  we  have  insensibly  strayed  into  side-openings  ; 
let  us  return  to  the  main  avenue  of  galleried  taverns. 
We  shall  have  to  mention  so  many,  that  we  see  no 
better  means  of  preventing  our  getting  confused  and 
losing  our  way  altogether  than  to  arrange  them  alpha- 
betically according  to  the  signs  they  were  known  by. 

The  first  inn  thus  on  our  list  is  the  Angel,  at 
Islington.  Its  establishment  dates  back  two  hundred 
years.  Originally  it  presented  the  usual  features  of  a 
large  country  inn,  having  a  long  front,  with  an  over- 
hanging tiled  roof;  the  principal  entrance  was  beneath 
a   projection,   which   extended   along  a  portion  of  the 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS    lf39 

front,  and  had  a  wooden  gallery  at  top.  The  inn-yard, 
approached  by  a  gateway  in  the  centre,  was  nearly  a 
quadrangle,  having  double  galleries  supported  by  plain 
columns  and  carved  pilasters,  with  caryatides  anil  other 
figures.  This  courtyard,  as  it  was  more  than  a  hundred 
years,  was  preserved  by  Hogarth  in  his  print  of  a  '  Stage 
( loach.1  There  is  also  a  view  of  it  in  Pinks's  '  History 
of  Clerkenwell.1  In  olden  days  the  inn  was  a  great 
halting-place  for  travellers  from  London,  and  from  the 
northern  and  western  counties.  On  the  King's  birthday 
the  royal  mail  coaches  used  to  meet  there,  as  shown  in 
an  engraving  of  1812,  in  the  Crace  collection  in  the 
British  Museum.  In  1819  the  old  house  was  pulled 
down,  and  the  present  ordinary-looking  building  erected 
in  its  stead,  a  grand  opportunity,  afforded  by  its  com- 
manding position,  ninety-nine  feet  above  the  Trinity 
high  water-mark,  at  the  meeting  of  so  many  important 
roads,  being  thus  stupidly  lost. 

There  was  another  Angel  inn,  in  St.  Clement's, 
Strand,  '  behind  St.  Clement  Kirk.1  To  this  also  was 
attached  a  galleried  yard,  but,  according  to  the  wood- 
cut in  Diprose's  '  St.  Clement  Danes,1  there  were 
"•alleries  to  the  first  and  second  floors  on  one  side  of  the 
yard  only.  And  from  this  house  also  seven  or  eight 
mail-coaches  were  despatched  nightly,  and  from  here 
also  the  royal  mails  used  to  start  on  the  King's  birth- 
day for  the  West  of  England.  Concerning  the  public 
conveyances  of  those  days,  the  following  curious 
announcement  reads  amusing :  '  On  Monday  the 
5th  April,  1762,  will  set  out  from  the  Angel  Inn, 
behind  St.  Clement's  Church,  a  neat  flying  machine, 
carrying  four  passengers,  on  steel  springs,  and  sets  out 


140  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  goes  to  Salisbury 
the  same  evening,  and  returns  from  Salisbury  the  next 
morning  at  the  same  hour ;  and  will  continue  jroinff 
from  London  every  Monday,  Wednesday  and  Fridav, 
and  return  every  Tuesday,  Thursday  and  Saturday. 
Performed  by  the  proprietors  of  the  stage  coach, 
Thomas  Massey,  Anthony  Coack.  Each  passenger  to 
pay  twenty-three  shillings  for  their  fare,  and  to  be 
allowed  fourteen  pounds'  weight  baggage  ;  all  above  to 
pay  for  one  penny  a  pound.  Outside  passengers  and 
children  in  lap  to  pay  half  fare.  N.B. — The  masters  of 
the  machine  will  not  be  accountable  for  plate,  watches, 
money,  jewels,  bank-notes,  or  writings,  unless  booked  as 
such,  and  paid  for  accordingly.'  Why  the  proprietors 
should  have  called  their  coach  a  '  machine '  is  a  riddle, 
and  as  it  took  a  whole  day,  from  four  in  the  morning 
till  the  evening,  to  get  over  the  eighty-four  miles  be- 
tween London  and  Salisbury,  its  rate  of  progress  could 
hardly  be  called  a  '  flying  '  one. 

The  Angel  inn  was  of  very  ancient  origin,  being- 
mentioned  in  a  correspondence  dated  1503.  In  the 
Public  Advertiser  of  March  28,  1769,  appeared  the 
following  advertisement :  '  To  be  sold  a  Black  Girl,  the 
property  of  J.  R,  eleven  years  of  age,  who  is  extremely 
handy,  works  at  her  needle  tolerably,  and  speaks 
English  perfectly  well  ;  is  of  an  excellent  temper  and 
willing  disposition.  Inquire  of  Mr.  Owen,  at  the  Angel 
Inn,  behind  St.  Clement's  Church.'  The  inn  was 
closed  in  1853,  the  freehold  fetching  ^6,800,  and  on 
its  site  the  legal  chambers  known  as  Danes  Inn  were 
erected. 

In   Philip  Lane,   London  Wall,  anciently  stood  the 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS    141 

Ape,  an  inn  with  a  galleried  yard ;  all  that  now  re- 
mains of  this  ancient  hostelry  is  a  stone  carving  of  a 
monkey  squatted  on  its  haunches  and  eating  an  apple ; 
under  it  is  the  date  1670  and  the  initial  B.  It  is  fixed 
on  the  house  numbered  14.  The  courtyard,  where  the 
coaches  and  waggons  used  to  arrive  and  depart,  is  now 
an  open  space,  round  which  houses  are  built.  A  view 
of  the  Ape  and  Cock  taverns  as  they  appeared  in  1851 
is  in  the  Crace  collection. 

We  should  be  trying  the  reader's  patience  were  we  lo 
enter  into  a  discussion  as  to  the  origin  of  the  sign  of 
the  Relle  Sauvage,   the  inn  which  once  stood  at  the 
bottom  of  Ludgate,  and  whose  site  is  now  occupied  by 
(he    establishment   of  Messrs.    Cassell    and    Company. 
The  name  was  derived  either  from  one  William  Savage, 
who  in  1380  was  a  citizen  living  in  that  locality,  or, 
more    probably,    from    one    Arabella    Savage,    whose 
property  the  inn  once  was.     The  sign  originally  was  a 
bell  hung  within  a  hoop.     As  already  mentioned,  inn- 
yards    were    anciently    used    as    theatres.      The    Belle 
Sauvage  was  a  favourite  place   for  dramatic  perform- 
ances, its  inner  yard  being  spacious,  and  having  hand- 
somely carved  galleries  to  the  first  and  second  floors  at 
the  back  of  the  main  building.     An  original  drawing  of 
it  is  in  the  Crace  collection.     In  this  yard  Banks,  the 
showman,  so  often  mentioned  in  Elizabethan  pamphlets, 
exhibited  his  trained  horse  Morocco,  the  animal  which 
once  ascended  the  tower  of  St.  Paul's,  and  which  on 
another    occasion    delighted     the    mob    by    selecting 
Tarleton,    the    low    comedian,    as    the    greatest    fool 
present.      Banks  eventually   took   his  horse   to  Rome, 
and  the  priests,  frightened  at  the  circus   tricks,  burnt 


142  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

both  Morocco  and  his  master  as  sorcerers.  Close  by 
the  inn  lived  Grinling  Gibbons,  and  an  old  house,  bear- 
ing the  crest  of  the  Cutlers'1  Company,  remains. 

The  old  Black  Bull  (now  No.  122),  Gray's  Inn  Lane, 
w.'is,  in  its  original  state,  as  shown  by  a  woodcut  in 
AValford's  '  Old  and  New  London,1  a  specimen,  though 
of  the  meaner  sort,  of  the  old-fashioned  galleried  yard. 

The  Black  Lion,  on  the  west  side  of  Whitefriars 
Street,  was  a  quaint  and  picturesque  edifice,  and  its 
courtyard  showed  a  gallery  to  the  first-floor  of  the 
building,  rather  wider  than  usual,  and  with  massive 
banisters,  pillars  supporting  the  roof.  The  old  house 
was  pulled  down  in  1877,  and  a  large  tavern  of  the 
ordinary  uninteresting  type  now  occupies  its  site. 

One  of  the  once  famous  Southwark  inns  was  the 
Boars  Head,  which  formed  a  part  of  Sir  John  Fastolf "s 
benefactions  to  Magdalen  College,  Oxford.  This  Sir 
John  was  one  of  the  bravest  Generals  in  the  French 
wars  under  Henry  IV.  and  his  successors.  The  premises 
comprised  a  narrow  court  of  ten  or  twelve  houses,  and 
two  separate  houses  at  the  east  end,  the  one  of  them 
having  a  gallery  to  the  first-floor.  The  property  was 
for  many  years  leased  to  the  father  of  Mr.  John  Timbs, 
which  latter,  in  his  '  Curiosities  of  London,"'  gives  a 
lengthy  account  of  the  premises.  They  were  taken 
down  in  1830  to  widen  the  approach  to  London  Bridge. 
The  court  above  mentioned  was  known  as  Boar's  Head 
Court,  and  under  it  and  some  adjoining  houses,  on 
their  demolition,  was  discovered  a  finely-vaulted  cellar, 
doubtless  the  wine-cellar  of  the  Boar's  Head. 

Most  noted  among  theatrical  inns  was  the  Bull,  in 
Bibhopsgate   Street,   so    much   so    that    the    mother  of 


LONDON  TAVKUNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS     143 

Anthony  Bacon  (the  brother  of  the  great  Francis), 
when  he  went  to  live  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  inn, 
was  terribly  frightened  lest  he  and  his  servants  should 
be  led  astray  by  the  actors  performing  at  the  inn. 
Tarleton,  the  comedian,  often  acted  there.  It  was 
while  giving  representations  at  the  Bull  that  Burbage, 
Shakespeare's  friend,  and  his  fellows  obtained  a  patent 
from  (t)ucen  Elizabeth  for  erecting  a  permanent  build- 
ing for  theatrical  performances,  though  the  Bull  afforded 
them  every  convenience,  its  vard  and  galleries  beina  on 
a  large  scale  and  in  good  style.  It  was  at  the  Bull  that 
the  Cambridge  carrier  Hobson,  of  'Hobson's  choice,1 
used  to  put  up.*  A  portrait  and  a  parchment  certifi- 
cate of  Mr.  Van  Ham,  a  customer  of  the  house,  were 
long  preserved  at  the  Bull  inn;  this  worthy  is  said  to 
have  drunk  35,680  bottles  of  wine  in  this  hostelry. 

The  Bull  and  Gate,  in  Holborn,  probably  took  its 
name  from  Boulogne  Gate,  as  the  Bull  and  Mouth  in 
Aldersgate  Street  was  a  corruption  of  Boulogne  Mouth, 
and  both  were,  no  doubt,  intended  as  compliments  to 
Henry  VIII.,  who  took  that  town  in  1544.  Tom  Jones 
alighted  at  the  Bull  and  Gate  when  he  first  came  to 
London. 

Holborn  at  one  time  abounded  in  inns.  Says  Stow  : 
'On  the  higli  street  of  Old  bourne  have  ye  many  fair 
houses  builded,  and  lodgings  for  gentlemen,  inns  for 
travellers  and  such  like  up  almost  (for  it  lacketh  but 
little)  to  St.  Giles1  in  the  Fields.1  We  shall  have  to 
mention  one  or  two  more  as  we  go  on. 

The  Bull  and   Mouth  inn  alluded   to  above  in   the 

*  Though  I  find  it  stated  in  oiher  authorities  that  he  put  up 
at  the  Four  Swans  ;  possiblv  he  resorted  to  both. 


144  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

olden  time  was  a  great  coaching-place.  It  had  a  large 
vard  and  galleries,  with  elegantly  designed  galleries  to 
the  first,  second,  and  third  floors.  There  is  a  view  of  it 
in  the  Grace  collection.  Its  site  was  afterwards  occupied 
by  the  Queen's  Hotel,  which  was  pulled  down  in  1887 
to  make  room  for  the  post-office  extension. 

The  Catherine  Wheel  was  a  sign  frequently  adopted 
by  inn-keepers  in  former  days.  Mr.  Larwood,  in  his 
'  History  of  Signboards,1  assumes  that  it  was  intended 
to  indicate  that  as  the  knights  of  St.  Catherine  of 
Mount  Sinai  protected  the  pilgrims  from  robbery,  he, 
the  innkeeper,  would  protect  the  traveller  from  being 
fleeced  at  his  inn.  But  this  surmise  seems  too  learned 
to  be  true.  What  did  the  bonifaces  of  those  days 
know  of  the  knights  of  St.  Catherine  ?  But  in  Roman 
Catholic  countries  saints  were,  and  are  still,  seen  on 
numerous  signboards,  and  so  the  one  in  question  may 
have  descended  in  English  inns  from  ante-Reformation 
times,  or  it  may  have  been  the  fancy  of  one  particular 
man,  who  may  have  read  the  story  of  St.  Catherine, 
and  been  moved  by  it  to  adopt  the  wheel.  St.  Catherine 
was  beheaded,  after  having  been  placed  between  wheels 
with  spikes,  from  which  she  was  saved  by  an  angel. 
But  to  come  to  facts. 

There  were  two  inns  in  London  with  that  sign.  One 
was  in  Bishopsgate  Street,  and  was  in  the  last  century 
a  famous  coaching  inn,  built  in  the  style  of  such  inns, 
with  a  coach-yard  and  galleried  buildings  round.  It 
has  disappeared.  The  other  was  in  the  Borough,  and 
was  a  much  larger  establishment,  and  a  famous  inn  for 
carriers  during  the  last  two  centuries.  It  remains,  but 
has  lost  its  galleries  and  other  distinctive  features. 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS    145 

One  of  the  oldest  inns  in  London,  bearing  the  sign 
of  the  Cock,  stood  till  1871  on  the  north  side  of  Tot- 
hill  Street.  It  was  built  entirely  of  timber,  mostly 
cedar-wood,  but  the  outside  was  painted  and  plastered, 
and  an  ancient  coat  of  arms,  that  of  Edward  III.  (in 
whose  reign  the  house  is  said  to  have  been  built),  carved 
in  stone,  discovered  in  the  house,  was  walled  up  in  the 
front  of  the  house.  Larwood  says  that  the  workmen 
employed  at  the  building  of  the  east  end  of  West- 
minster Abbey  used  to  receive  their  wages  there,  and 
at  a  later  period,  about  two  centuries  ago,  the  first 
Oxford  stage-coach  is  reported  to  have  started  from 
that  inn.  In  the  back  parlour  there  was  a  picture  of  a 
jolly  and  bluff-looking  man,  who  was  said  to  have  been 
its  driver.  The  house  was  built  so  as  to  enclose  a 
galleried  yard,  and  it  no  doubt  originally  was  one  of 
some  importance.  Under  the  staircase  there  was  a 
curious  hiding-place,  perhaps  to  serve  as  a  refuge  for  a 
'  mass  priest '  or  a  highwayman.  There  were  also  in 
the  house  two  massive  carvings,  the  one  representing 
Abraham  about  to  offer  up  his  son,  and  the  c  .  the 
adoration  of  the  magi,  and  they  were  said  to  have  been 
left  in  pledge  for  an  unpaid  score.  There  is  a  water- 
colour  drawing  of  the  house  as  it  appeared  in  1853  in 
the  Grace  collection.  It  is  supposed  that  the  sign  of 
the  Cock  was  here  adopted  on  account  of  its  vicinity  to 
the  Abbey,  of  which  St.  Peter  was  the  patron.  In  the 
Middle  Ages  a  cock  crowing  on  the  top  of  a  pillar  was 
often  one  of  the  accessories  in  a  picture  of  the  Apostle. 

A  sign  frequently  adopted  by  innkeepers  was  the 
Cross  Keys,  the  arms  of  the  Papal  See,  the  emblem  of 
St.  Peter  and   his  successors.     There  was  an  inn  with 

10 


146  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

that  sign  in  Gracechurch  Street,  having  a  yard  with 
galleries  all  round,  and  in  which  theatrical  perform- 
ances were  frequently  given.  Banks,  already  mentioned, 
there  exhibited  his  wonderful  horse  Morocco ;  it  was 
here  the  horse,  at  his  master's  bidding  to  '  fetch  the 
veriest  fool  in  the  company,1  with  his  mouth  drew  forth 
Tarleton,  who  was  amongst  the  spectators.  Tarleton 
could  only  say,  '  God  a  mercy,  horse  I1  which  for  a  time 
became  a  by-word  in  the  streets  of  London.  At  this 
inn  the  first  stage-coach,  travelling  between  Clapham 
and  Gracechurch  Street  once  a  day,  was  established  in 
1690  by  John  Day  and  John  Bundy;  but  the  house 
was  well  known  as  early  as  1681  as  one  of  the  carriers1 
inns. 

The  Four  Swans  (demolished)  was  a  very  fine  old 
inn,  with  courtyard  and  galleries  to  two  stories  on  three 
sides  complete. 

Whether  St.  George  ever  existed  is  doubtful ;  prob- 
ably the  story  of  this  saint  and  the  dragon  is  merely  a 
corruption  of  the  legend  of  St.  Michael  conquering 
Satan,  or  of  Perseus1  delivery  of  Andromeda.  The 
story  was  always  doubted,  hence  the  lines  recorded  by 
Aubrey  : 

'  To  save  a  maid  St.  George  the  dragon  slew, 
A  pretty  tale  if  all  is  told  be  true. 
Most  say  there  are  no  dragons,  and  it's  said 
There  was  no  George  ;  pray  God  there  was  a  maid.' 

But  the  George  is,  and  always  has  been,  a  very 
common  inn  sign  in  this  as  well  as  in  other  countries. 
We  are,  however,  here  concerned  with  one  George  only, 
the  one  in  the  Borough.      It  existed  in  the  time  of 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS   147 

Stow,  who  mentions  it  in  the  list  of  South wark  inns  he 
gives,  and  its  name  occurs  in  a  document  of  the  year 
1554.     It  stood   near  the  Tabard.     It  had   the  usual 
courtyard,  surrounded   by  buildings  on  all  sides,  witli 
galleries  to  two  stories  on  three  sides  giving  access  to 
the  bedrooms.     The  banisters  were  of  massive  size,  of 
the  'footman  leg1  style.     In  1670  the  inn  was  in  great 
part  burnt  down  and  demolished  by  a  fire  which  broke 
out  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  it  was  totally  consumed 
bv  the  great  fire  of  Southwark  some  six  years   later. 
The  fire  began  at  one  Mr.  Welsh's,  an  oilman,  near  St. 
Margaret's  Hill,  between  the  George  and  Talbot  inns. 
It    was    stopped    by    the    substantial    building   of    St. 
Thomas's  Hospital,  then  recently  erected.     The  present 
George  inn,  although    built   only  in    the    seventeenth 
century,   was   rebuilt    on    the    old    plan,    having   open 
wooden  galleries  leading  to  the  bedchambers.     When 
Mrs.  Scholefield,  descended  from  Weyland,  the  landlord 
of  the  inn  at  the  time  of  the  fires,  died  in  1859,  the 
property    was   purchased    by   the   governors    of    Guy's 
Hospital.     The  George  now  styles  itself  a  hotel,  but 
still  preserves  one  side  of  its  galleries  intact. 

Dragons,  though  fabulous  monsters,  asserted  them- 
selves on  signboards ;  green  appears  to  have  been  their 
favourite  colour.  When  Taylor,  the  water  poet,  wrote 
his  '  Travels  through  London,'  there  were  no  less  than 
seven  Green  Dragons  amongst  the  Metropolitan  taverns 
of  his  dav.  The  most  famous  of  them,  which  is  still  in 
existence,  was  the  Green  Dragon  in  Bishopsgate  Street, 
which  for  two  centuries  was  one  of  the  most  famous 
coach  and  carriers'  inns.  It  is  even  now  one  of  the 
best  examples  of  the  ancient  hostelries,  its  proprietor 

10—2 


148  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

having  strictly  retained  the  distinctive  features  of 
former  days,  the  only  innovation  introduced  by  him 
being  a  real  improvement,  in  the  removal  of  one  of  the 
objections  to  the  open  galleries  of  the  old  inns.  He 
has  enclosed  these  with  glass,  and  on  a  trellis-work 
leading  up  to  them  creeping  plants  have  been  made  to 
twine,  so  as  to  give  a  cool  and  refreshing  aspect  to  the 
old  inn  yard  in  summer  time.  Troops  of  guests  now 
daily  dine  in  its  low-ceilinged  rooms  with  great  beams 
in  all  soi-ts  of  angles,  and  shining  mahogany  tables. 
The  Dragon  is  great  in  rich  soups  and  mighty  joints 
of  succulent  meat ;  in  old  wines,  appreciated  by 
amateurs. 

The  King's  Head  was  another  of  the  many  inns  once 
to  be  found  in  the  Borough.  Their  great  number  is 
easily  explained  by  the  fact  that  London  Bridge  was 
then  the  only  bridge  from  south  to  north,  and  vice  versa. 
and  that  therefore  the  traffic  of  horses  and  men  had  to 
pass  through  South wark — of  course,  necessitating  much 
hotel  accommodation.  The  King's  Head  was  a  great 
resort  of  big  waggons,  for  the  loading  of  which  a  large 
crane  stood  in  the  yard,  in  consequence  of  which  one 
side  of  the  yard  had  a  gallery  to  the  second  floor  only, 
the  crane  occupying  the  space  of  the  lower  one,  whilst 
on  the  other  side  there  were  galleries  to  the  first  and 
second  floors. 

The  Old  Bell  in  Holborn,  recently  pulled  down,  bore 
the  arms  of  the  Fowlers  of  Islington,  the  owners  of 
Barnsbury  Manor  and  occupiers  of  lands  in  Canonbury. 
In  its  galleried  yard  the  boys  used  to  meet  to  go  in 
roaches  to  Mill  Hill  School. 

The  Oxford  Arms  stood  south  of  Warwick  Square 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS   149 

and  the  College  of  Physicians,  and  is  mentioned  in  a 
carrier's  advertisement  of  1072.  Edward  Martlet,  an 
Oxford  carrier,  started  his  coaches  and  waggons  thence 
three  times  a  week.  lie  also  announced  that  he  kept  a 
hearse  to  convey  'a  corps'1  to  any  part  of  England. 
The  Oxford  Arms  had  a  red-brick  facade,  of  the  period 
of  Charles  II.,  surmounting  a  gateway  leading  into  the 
yard,  which  had  on  three  sides  two  rows  of  wooden 
galleries  with  exterior  staircases,  the  fourth  side  being 
occupied  by  stabling,  built  against  a  portion  of  old 
London  Wall.  This  house  was  consumed  in  the  <n-eat 
(ire,  but  was  rebuilt  on  the  former  plan.  The  house 
always  belonged  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's, 
and  the  houses  of  the  Canons  Residentiary  adjoin  the 
Oxford  Arms  on  the  south,  and  there  is  a  door  from  the 
old  inn  into  one  of  the  back-yards  of  the  residentiary 
houses,  which  is  said  to  have  been  useful  during  the 
riots  of  1780  for  facilitating  the  escape  of  Roman 
Catholics  from  the  fury  of  the  mob,  by  enabling  them 
to  pass  into  the  residentiary  houses;  for  which  reason, 
it  is  said  by  a  clause  always  inserted  into  the  leases  of 
the  inn,  it  is  forbidden  to  close  up  the  door.  John 
Roberts,  the  bookseller,  from  whose  shop  most  of  the 
libels  and  squibs  on  Pope  were  issued,  lived  at  the 
Oxford  Arms. 

The  Queen's  Head  was  another  of  the  Southwark 
inns.  Its  inner  yard  had  galleries  on  one  side  only, 
one  to  the  first  and  another  to  the  second  floor.  Like 
all  others,  the  yard  was  approached  by  a  high  gateway 
from  the  street,  and  another  under  the  building  between 
the  outer  and  inner  yards. 

At  Knightsbridge  there  stood   till  about  1«65,  when 


150  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

it  was  pulled  down,  the  Rose  and  Crown,  anciently 
called  the  Oliver  Cromwell.  It  was  one  of  the  oldest 
houses  in  the  High  Street,  Knightsbridge,  having  been 
licensed  above  three  hundred  years.  The  Protector's 
bodyguard  is  said  to  have  been  stationed  in  it,  and  an 
inscription  to  that  effect  was,  till  shortly  before  its 
demolition/-  painted  on  the  front.  This  is  merely 
legendary,  but  there  are  grounds  for  not  entirely  reject- 
ing the  tradition.  In  1648  the  Parliament  army  was 
encamped  in  that  neighbourhood ;  Fairfax's  head- 
quarters were  for  a  while  at  Holland  House.  There 
was  a  house  not  far  from  the  inn  called  Cromwell 
House,  and  at  Kensington  there  still  exists  a  charity 
called  Cromwell's  Gift,  originally  a  sum  of  ^45,  but, 
having  been  invested  in  land  in  the  locality,  of  great 
value  now.  Cromwell  House  was  also  known  as  Hale 
House;  a  portion  of  the  South  Kensington  Museum 
now  occupies  the  site. 

To  return  to  the  Rose  and  Crown.  Two  sides  of  the 
yard  had  a  gallery  to  the  first  floor,  but  it  was  of  the 
poorest  description.  There  were  no  elegant  banisters, 
the  lower  part  of  the  gallery  was  closed  up  with  boards 
of  the  roughest  kind,  about  breast  high,  and  irregularly 
nailed  on  to  the  posts  supporting  the  roof.  Two  water- 
colour  drawings,  dated  1857,  showing  the  exterior  of  the 
house  and  the  yard,  are  in  the  Grace  collection.  Cor- 
bould  painted  this  inn  under  the  title  of  the  '  Old 
Hostelrie  at  Knightsbridge,''  exhibited  in  1849  ;  but  he 
transferred  its  date  to  145)7,  altering  the  house  accord- 
ing to  his  fancy.  In  1853  the  inn  had  a  narrow  escape 
from  destruction  by  fire.  Before  its  final  demolition  it 
had  been  much  modernized,  though  leaving  enough  of 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS   151 

its  original  characteristics  to  testify  to  its  antiquity 
and  former  importance.  The  Royal  Oak  at  Vauxhall 
was  an  old  inn  with  a  galleried  yard.  It  was  taken 
down  circa  1812  to  make  the  road  to  Vauxhall  Bridge, 
then  in  course  of  construction. 

One  of  the  oldest  of  galleried  inns  in  London  was  the 
Saracen's  Head,  on  Snow  Hill.  In  1377  the  fraternity 
founded  in  St.  Botolplfs  Church,  Aldersgate,  in  honour 
of  the  Body  of  Christ  and  of  the  saints  Fabian  and 
Sebastian,  were  the  proprietors  of  the  Saracen's  Head 
inn.  In  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  they  granted  a  lease 
of  twenty-one  years  to  John  Hertyshorn  of  the  Saracen's 
Head,  with  appurtenances,  consisting  of  two  houses 
adjoining  on  the  north  side,  at  the  yearly  rent  of  ten 
marks.  In  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  Dame  Joan  Astley 
(some  time  nurse  to  that  King)  obtained  a  license 
to  refound  the  fraternity  in  honour  of  the  Holy 
Trinity.  In  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  it  was  sup- 
pressed, and  its  endowments,  valued  at  £30  per  annum, 
granted  to  William  Harris.  The  antiquity  of  the 
inn  was  thus  beyond  question.  Stow,  describing  this 
neighbourhood,  mentions  it  as  'a  fair  large  inn  for 
receipt  of  travellers.''  The  courtyard  had  to  the  last 
many  of  the  characteristics  of  an  old  English  inn : 
there  were  galleries  all  round  leading  to  the  bedrooms, 
and  a  spacious  gateway  through  which  the  mail-coaches 
used  to  pass  in  and  out.  It  was  at  this  inn  that 
Nicholas  Nickleby  and  his  uncle  waited  on  Squeers,  the 
schoolmaster  of  Dotheboys  Hall.  It  was  demolished  in 
186i3,  when  the  Holborn  Valley  improvements  were 
undertaken.  A  view  of  the  inn  as  it  appeared  in  1855 
is  in  the  Crace  collection. 


152  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

As  there  were  many  inns  on  the  Southwark  side  of 
London  Bridge  for  the  reasons  given  when  we  spoke  of 
the  King's  Head,  so  for  the  same  reason  a  number  of 
inns,  some  of  which  we  have  already  mentioned,  were  on 
the  northern  side  of  the  bridge.  Besides  those  already 
named,  there  was  the  Spread  Eagle,  in  Gracechurch 
Street.  The  original  building  had  perished  in  the 
great  fire,  but  the  inn  was  rebuilt  after  it.  It  had 
the  usual  yard  and  galleries  to  the  two  floors.  At  first 
only  a  carriers1  inn,  it  became  famous  as  a  coaching- 
house,  the  mails  and  principal  stage-coaches  for  Kent 
and  other  southern  counties  arriving  and  departing 
from  here.  It  was  long  the  property  of  John  Chaplin, 
cousin  of  William  Chaplin,  of  the  firm  of  Chaplin  and 
Home.  The  inn  was  taken  down  in  I860  ;  the  plot  of 
ground  which  it  occupied  contained  12,600  feet,  and 
was  sold  for  ,£95,000. 

The  Swan  with  Two  Necks  is  a  curious  sign,  variously 
explained.  It  is  supposed  to  mean  the  swan  with  two 
nicks  or  notches  cut  into  swans'  bills,  so  that  each 
owner  might  know  his.  But  these  nicks  being  so  small 
as  not  to  be  discernible  on  an  inn  sign  hung  high  up, 
there  seems  no  sense  in  referring  to  them.  More  likely 
two  swans  swimming  side  by  side,  and  the  neck  of  one 
of  them  protruding  beyond  that  of  the  other,  took 
some  artist's  fancy,  and  induced  him  to  produce  the 
illusion  in  a  picture.  However,  the  origin  of  the  sign  does 
not  concern  us,  but  the  inn  with  that  sign.  There  was 
a  famous  one  in  what  was  Lad  Lane,  and  is  now 
Gresham  Street.  It  was  for  a  centurv  and  more  the 
head  coach-inn  and  booking-office  for  the  North.  Its 
courtyard  was  of  great  size  ;  the  galleries  were  of  some- 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS   153 

what  irregular  arrangement,  there  being  one  only  at 
the  back,  communicating  at  one  end  with  a  lower  and 
an  upper  gallery  on  one  side,  whilst  on  the  other  side 
there  was  a  gallery  unconnected  with  the  others,  and 
which  also  was  wider  and  more  elaborately  decorated 
than  the  others.  A  view  of  it  appeared  in  the  Illustrated 
London  News,  December  23,  1805. 

An  inn  which  has  been  rendered  famous  by  Chaucer  s 
rhymed  tales — we  cannot  honestly  call  them  poetry — 
of  the  Canterbury  pilgrims  is  the  Tabard,  in  the 
Borough.  Its  history  must  be  pretty  familiar  to  most 
people.  It  originally  was  the  property  of  William  of 
Ludegarsale,  of  whom  the  Tabard  and  the  adjoining 
house,  which  the  Abbots  made  their  town  residence, 
were  purchased  in  1304  by  the  Abbot  and  convent  of 
Hyde,  near  Winchester.  The  pilgrimage  to  Canter- 
bury is  said  to  have  taken  place  in  1383.  Henry  Bailly, 
Chaucer's  host  of  the  Tabard  at  that  time,  was  a  repre- 
sentative of  the  Borough  of  Southwark  in  Parliament 
during  the  reien  of  two  Kings,  Edward  III.  and 
Richard  II.  After  the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries, 
the  Tabard  and  the  Abbot's  house  were  sold  by 
Henry  VIII.  to  John  Master  and  Thomas  Master ;  the 
Tabard  afterwards  was  in  the  occupation  of  one  Robert 
Patty,  but  the  Abbot's  house,  with  the  stable  and 
garden  belonging  thereto,  were  reserved  to  the  Bishop 
Commendator,  John  Saltcote,  alias  Casson,  who  had 
been  the  last  Abbot  of  Hyde,  and  who  surrendered  it 
to  Henry  VIII.,  and  who  afterwards  was  transferred  to 
the  See  of  Salisbury.  The  original  Tabard  was  in 
existence  as  late  as  the  year  lb'02.  On  a  beam  across 
the  road,  whence  swung  the  sign,  was  inscribed  :  k  This 


154  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

is  the  inn  where  Sir  Jeff'ry  Chaucer  and  the  nine-and- 
twenty  pilgrims  lay  in  their  journey  to  Canterbury, 
anno  1383.1  On  the  removal  of  the  beam  the  inscrip- 
tion was  transferred  to  the  gateway.  The  house  was 
repaired  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  from  that 
period  probably  dated  the  fireplace,  carved  oak  panels, 
and  other  portions  spared  by  the  fire  of  1676,  which 
were  still  to  be  seen  at  the  beginning  of  this  century. 
In  this  fire  some  six  hundred  houses  had  to  be  destroyed 
to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  flames,  and  as  the  Tabard 
stood  nearly  in  the  centre  of  this  area,  and  was  mostly 
built  of  wood,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  old  inn 
perished.  It  was,  however,  soon  rebuilt,  and  as  nearly 
as  possible  on  the  same  spot ;  but  the  landlord  changed 
the  sign  from  the  Tabard  to  the  Talbot ;  there  is, 
nevertheless,  little  doubt  that  the  inn  as  it  remained 
till  1874,  when  it  was  demolished,  with  its  quaint  old 
timber  galleries,  with  two  timber  bridges  connecting 
their  opposite  sides,  and  which  extended  to  all  the  inn 
buildings,  and  the  no  less  quaint  old  chambers,  Avas 
the  immediate  successor  of  the  inn  commemorated  by 
Chaucer.  According  to  an  old  view  published  in  1721, 
the  yard  is  shown  as  apparently  opening  to  the  street ; 
but  in  a  view  which  appeared  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  of  September,  1812,  the  yard  seems  enclosed. 
A  sign,  painted  by  Blake,  and  fixed  up  against  the 
gallery  facing  you  as  you  entered  the  yard,  represented 
Chaucer  and  his  merry  company  setting  out  on  their 
journey.  There  was  a  large  hall  called  the  Pilgrims'1 
Hall,  dating  of  course  from  1676,  but  in  course  of  time 
it  was  so  cut  up  to  adapt  it  to  the  purpose  of  modern 
bedrooms,  that  its  original  condition  was  scarcely  recog- 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS   155 

nisable.  There  are  various  views  of  the  old  inn  in 
the  Grace  collection  :  one  without  date,  one  of  1780, 
another  of  1810,  another  of  1812  (the  Gentleman? 8 
Magazine  print),  one  of  1831,  and  yet  another  of  1841. 
The  site  is  now  occupied  by  a  public-house  in  the  gin- 
palace  style,  which  presumes  to  call  itself  the  Old 
Tabard. 

In  Piccadilly,  No.  75,  there  formerly  stood  on  part  of 
the  site  for  so  short  a  time  occupied  by  Clarendon 
House  (1664-1683)  the  Three  Kings  tavern.  At  the 
gateway  to  the  stables  there  were  seen  two  Corinthian 
pilasters,  which  originally  belonged  to  Clarendon  House. 
The  stable-yard  itself  presented  the  features  of  the  old 
galleried  inn-yard,  and  it  was  the  place  from  which  the 
first  Bath  mail-coach  was  started.  Later,  Mr.  John 
Camden  Hotten,  and  afterwards  Messrs.  Chatto  and 
Windus,  carried  on  their  publishing  business  on  this 
spot. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  the  Three  Nuns  was  the 
sign  of  a  well-known  coaching  and  carriers1  inn  in 
Aldgate,  which  gave  its  name  to  Three  Nuns  Court 
close  by.  The  yard,  as  usual,  was  galleried,  but  within 
recent  years  the  inn  was  pulled  down  and  rebuilt  in  the 
form  of  a  modern  hotel.  Near  this  inn  was  the  dread- 
ful pit  in  which,  during  the  Plague  of  1665,  not  less 
than  1,114  bodies  were  buried  in  a  fortnight,  from 
September  6  to  20. 

The  Criterion  Restaurant  and  Theatre  stands  on  the 
site  of  an  old  inn,  the  White  Rear,  which  for  a  century 
and  more  was  one  of  the  busiest  coaching-houses  in  con- 
nection  with  the  West  and  South- West  of  England.  In 
this  house  Benjamin  West,  the  future  President  of  the 


156  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Royal  Academy,  put  up  on  his  arrival  in  London  from 
America.  Here  died  Luke  Sullivan,  the  engraver  of 
some  of  Hogarth's  most  famous  works.  The  inn  yard 
had  galleries  to  two  sides  of  the  bedchambers  on  the 
second  floor,  connected  by  a  bridge  across. 

We  must  once  more  return  to  Southwark,  for  besides 
the  inns  already  mentioned  as  existing  in  that  locality, 
there  was  another  famous  one,  namely,  the  White  Hart. 
It  had  the  largest  inn  sign  except  the  Castle  in  Fleet 
Street.  Much  maligned  Jack  Cade  and  some  of  his 
followers  put  up  at  this  inn  during  their  brief  possession 
of  London  in  1450.  The  original  inn  which  sheltered 
them  remained  standing  till  1676,  when  it  was  burnt 
down  in  the  great  fire  already  mentioned.  It  was 
rebuilt,  and  was  in  existence  till  a  few  years  ago,  when 
it  was  pulled  down.  It  consisted  of  several  open 
courts,  the  inner  one  having  handsome  galleries  on 
three  sides  to  the  first  and  second  floors.  There  are 
two  views  of  it,  taken  respectively  in  1840  and  1853, 
in  the  Crace  collection,  and  it  was  in  the  yard  of  this 
inn  that  Mr.  Pickwick  first  encountered  Sam  Weller. 

The  White  Lion,  in  St.  John  Street,  Clerkenwell, 
was  originally  an  inn  frequented  by  drovers  and  carriers, 
and  covered  a  good  deal  of  ground ;  but  before  its 
demolition  it  had  already  been  greatly  reduced  in  size, 
the  gateway  leading  into  the  yard  having  been  built  up 
and  formed  into  an  oil-shop.  Inserted  in  the  front 
wall  was  the  sign  in  stone  relief,  representing  a  lion 
rampant,  painted  white,  and  with  the  date  1714.  A 
house  on  the  other  side  of  the  central  portion  also 
seems  to  have  formed  part  of  the  original  White  Lion. 
The  gate  just   mentioned    led   into  a  yard   similar   to 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS  157 

those  attached  to  other  ancient  inns.  There  were,  in 
the  east  front  of  the  inn,  strong  wooden  beams,  which 
no  doubt  supported  the  erection  over  the  gateway,  and 
that  there  was  a  yard  surrounded  by  a  gallery  is  proved 
by  the  remains  of  door  openings  in  the  upper  parts  of 
the  back  walls  of  the  premises,  which  had  been  bricked 
up.  At  one  time  a  bowling-green  was  attached  to  the 
tavern,  and  by  the  side  of  it  a  pond,  in  which  Anthony 
Joyce,  the  cousin  of  Pepys,  drowned  himself.  He  was 
a  tavern  keeper,  and  kept  the  Three  Stags  in  Holborn, 
which  was  burnt  down  in  1666.  l^pys  records  in  his 
Diary,  under  September  5  of  that  year :  '  Thence  home- 
ward .  .  .  having  .  .  .  seen  Anthony  Joyce's  house  on 
fire.''  The  loss  incurred  by  the  fire  preyed  on  Joyce's 
mind,  and  is  supposed  to  have  led  him  to  commit  the 
rash  act. 

Here  we  will  close  our  selection,  which  embraces  all 
the  most  important  galleried  taverns  once  existing  in 
London.  Their  disappearance  is  much  to  be  regretted, 
though  with  the  requirements  of  modern  travellers  it 
was  scarcely  to  be  avoided.  But  they  formed  picturesque 
features  of  London,  which  has  so  very  few  of  them, 
especially  as  regards  hotels,  which  in  their  modern  style 
remind  us  only  of  slightly  decorated  barracks,  if  they 
are  not  perfectly  hideous,  as,  for  instance,  the  architec- 
tural nightmare  in  Victoria  Street.  But  there  are 
plenty  of  people  yet  who  delight  in  old-fashioned 
houses  and  surroundings — the  revival  of  stage-coaches 
is  proof  of  it.  A  galleried  tavern  with  modern  improve- 
ments would,  we  fancy,  not  be  a  bad  spec. 


158  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 


II. — Old  London  Tea-Gardens. 

Names  are  often  misleading.  Mr.  Coward  is  a  fierce 
fire-eater ;  Mr.  Gentle's  family  tremble  when  they  hear 
his  footsteps  on  the  pavement  on  his  return  home  from 
his  office,  for  they  know  that  immediately  on  his 
entrance  he  will  kick  up  a  row  with  every  one  of  them ; 
whilst  Mr.  Lion  lives  in  awe  of  his  termagant  better,  or 
worse,  half.  We  are  led  into  these  reflections  by  the 
term  '  tea-gardens.1  It  sounds  so  very  innocent ;  it 
calls  up  visions  of  honest  citizens,  surrounded  by  their 
wives  and  olive-branches,  enjoying,  amid  idyllic  scenes 
of  rural  beauties,  their  fragrant  bohea,  bread-and- 
butter,  cream  and  sillabub.  But  the  vision  is  delusive. 
Noorthouck,  who  wrote  about  1770,  when  the  tea- 
gardens  were  most  abundant  and  flourishing,  speaks  of 
them  thus :  '  The  tendency  of  these  cheap  catering- 
places  of  pleasure  just  at  the  skirts  of  this  vast  town 
is  too  obvious  to  need  farther  explanation ;  they  swarm 
with  loose  women  and  with  boys  whose  morals  are 
depraved,  and  their  constitutions  ruined,  before  thev 
arrive  at  manhood.  Indeed,  the  licentious  resort  to 
the  tea-drinking  gardens  was  carried  to  such  excess 
every  night  that  the  magistrates  lately  thought  proper 
to  suppress  the  organs  in  their  public  rooms ;  it  is  left 
to  their  cool  reflection  whether  this  was  discharging  all 
the  duty  they  owe  to  the  public.'  Certes,  the  remedv 
seems  hardly  adequate  when  the  grand  jury  of  Middle- 
sex, as  far  back  as  1744,  had  complained  of  'advertise- 
ments inviting  and  seducing  not  only  the  inhabitants, 
but  all  other  persons,  to  several  places  kept  apart  for 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS  159 

the  encouragement  of  luxury,  extravagance,  idleness, 
and  other  wicked  illegal  purposes,  which  go  on  with 
impunity  to  the  destruction  of  many  families,  to  the 
great  dishonour  of  the  kingdom,  especially  at  a  time 
when  we  are  involved  in  an  expensive  war,  and  so  much 
overburdened  with  taxes  of  all  sorts,''  etc.  With  such 
an  indictment  before  them,  the  magistrates  must  have 
been  wooden-headed  indeed  if  they  thought  to  stop  the 
evil  by  forbidding  the  playing  of  organs  at  such  places. 
And  the  evil  must  have  been  not  only  serious,  but 
widespread,  seeing  there  were  upwards  of  thirty  of 
these  tea-gardens  around  London.  But  our  object  is 
not  to  preach  a  sermon  on  the  wickedness  of  the  world, 
but  to  describe  the  places  where  it  was  practised.  We 
begin  with  Bagnigge  Wells  tea-gardens. 

Who  now,  wandering  about  dreary  King's  Cross,  un- 
acquainted with  the  history  of  the  place,  would  believe 
that  this  was  once  a  picturesque  rural  spot  ?  But  such 
it  was,  and  here  Nell  Gwynne  had  a  summer  residence 
amidst  fields  and  on  the  banks  of  the  River  Fleet,  then 
a  clear  stream,  occasionally  flooding  the  locality.  The 
ground  on  which  the  house,  a  gabled  building,  stood 
was  then  called  Bagnigge  Vale.  Early  in  the  eighteenth 
century  the  house  was  converted  into  a  place  of  public- 
entertainment,  in  consequence  of  the  timely  discovery 
on  the  spot  of  two  wells,  one  of  which  was  said  to  be 
purging  and  the  other  chalybeate,  and  the  water  of 
which  was  sold  at  threepence  a  glass  or  at  eightpence 
by  the  gallon.  But  one  of  the  wells  seems  to  have 
been  known  by  the  name  of  Black  Mary's  Well  or  Hole, 
which  may  have  been  a  corruption  of  Blessed  Mary's 
Well,  or  due  to  the  alleged  fact  that  a  black  woman 


160  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

leased  the  well.  The  gardens,  it  seems,  were  largely 
patronized,  hundreds  of  persons  visiting  them  in  the 
morning  to  drink  the  waters,  and  on  summer  afternoons 
to  drink  tea,  and  something  stronger,  too.  The  grounds 
were  ornamented  with  curious  shrubs  and  flowers,  a 
small  round  fish-pond,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  a 
fountain,  representing  Cupid  bestriding  a  swan,  which 
spouted  the  water  up  to  a  great  height.  The  Fleet 
flowed  through  a  part  of  the  gardens,  and  was  crossed 
by  a  bridge.  Two  prints  are  extant  (reproduced  in 
Pinks's  '  Clerkenwell '),  showing  the  gardens  as  they 
were  in  1772  and  again  early  in  the  present  century. 
But  in  December,  1813,  the  gardens  came  to  grief;  the 
whole  of  the  furniture  and  fittings  were  sold  by  auction 
by  order  of  the  assignees  of  Mr.  Salter,  the  tenant,  a 
bankrupt.  The  fixtures  and  fittings  were  described  as 
comprising  the  erection  of  a  temple,  a  grotto,  alcoves, 
arbours,  boxes,  green-house,  large  lead  figures,  pumps, 
cisterns,  sinks,  counters,  beer  machine,  stoves,  coppers, 
shrubs,  200  drinking  tables,  350  forms,  400  dozen 
bottled  ale  [which  shows  that  tea  was  not  the  only 
drink  consumed  there],  etc.  The  house  itself  remained 
standing  till  1844,  when  it  was  demolished  ;  the  Phoenix 
brewery  afterwards  occupied  the  site,  which  is  now 
covered  with  dreary  streets.  All  that  reminds  you 
now  of  the  gardens  is  a  stone  tablet  set  into  the  wall 
of  a  dull  house  in  the  neighbourhood,  which  shows  a 
grotesque  head  and  the  inscription  :  '  This  is  Bagnigge 
House,  neare  the  Pinder  a  Wakefield,  1680/  It  may 
be  added  that  at  the  time  the  gardens  were  in  existence 
the  place  was  environed  with  hills  and  rising  ground 
every  way  but  to  the  south,  and  consequently  screened 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS  161 

from  the  inclemency  of  the  more  chilling  winds.  Prim- 
rose Hill  rose  westward ;  on  the  north-west  were  the 
more  distant  elevations  of  Hampstead  and  Highgate ; 
on  the  north  and  north-east  were  pretty  sharp  ascents 
to  Islington.  But  the  ground,  which,  as  shown  then, 
was  in  a  deep  hollow,  has  in  modern  times  been  con- 
siderably raised  above  the  former  level,  and  no  vestige 
remains  of  the  gardens  or  the  springs.  But  the  gardens 
were  so  famous  in  their  day  as  to  cause  their  name  to 
be  adopted  by  a  similar  establishment  in  a  totally 
different  direction.  Towards  the  end  of  the  last 
century  the  New  Bagnigge  Wells  tea-gardens  were 
opened  at  Bayswater.  Whether  these  were  identical 
with  the  new  Bayswater  tea-gardens  mentioned  in  a 
London  guide  we  have  not  been  able  to  ascertain,  but 
probably  they  were.  Sir  John  Hill,  born  about  171(5, 
had  a  house  in  the  Bayswater  Road,  in  whose  grounds 
he  cultivated  the  medicinal  plants  from  which  he  pre- 
pared his  tinctures,  balsams,  and  water-dock  essence, 
and  though  the  profession  called  him  a  charlatan  and 
a  quack,  he  must  have  been  a  learned  botanist.  His 
'  Vegetable  System 1  extends  to  twenty-six  folio  volumes. 
His  garden  is  now  covered  by  the  long  range  of 
mansions  called  Lancaster  Gate,  but  towards  the  close 
of  the  last  century  the  site  was  opened  to  the  public  as 
tea-gardens.  The  grounds  were  spacious,  and  contained 
several  springs  of  fine  water  lying  close  to  the  surface. 
The  Bayswater  Bagnigge  Wells  was  opened  as  a  public 
garden  as  late  as  1854,  shortly  after  which  time,  the 
visitors  having  grown  less  and  less,  it  was  shut  up,  and 
eventually  seized  by  the  land-devouring  speculating 
builder. 

11 


162  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

The  similarity  of  names  has  earned  us  from  the 
north  of  London  to  the  west,  but  as  the  former  locality, 
in  consequence  of  its  natural  features,  always  was  a 
favourite  one  for  tea-gardens,  we  will  return  to  it.  On 
the  top  of  the  hill  we  referred  to  as  rising  from  Bag- 
nigge  Wells  to  Islington  there  stood,  where  the  Belve- 
dere Tavern  now  stands,  a  house  of  entertainment 
known  as  Busby's  Folly,  so  called  after  its  owner,  one 
Christopher  Busby,  whose  name  is  spelt  Busbee  on  a 
token,  'White  Lion  at  Islington,  1668,'  of  which  he 
was  the  landlord.  Why  the  cognomen  of  Folly  was 
given  to  it  is  not  very  apparent,  since,  to  judge  by  the 
prints  extant,  there  was  nothing  foolish  about  the 
building.  But  it  appears  that  then,  as  it  is  now,  it 
was  customary  to  call  any  house  which  was  not  con- 
structed according  to  a  tasteless,  unimaginative  builder  s 
ideas  a  Folly ;  at  Peckham  there  was  Heaton's  Folly. 
From  Busby's  Folly  the  Society  of  Bull  Feathers'  Hall 
used  to  commence  their  march  to  Islington  to  claim  the 
toll  of  all  gravel  earned  up  Highgate  Hill,  to  which 
they  asserted  a  right  in  a  tract  published  by  them  and 
entitled  '  Bull  Feather  Hall ;  or,  the  Antiquity  and 
Dignity  of  Horns  amply  shown.  London,  1664.' 
Busby's  Folly  retained  its  name  till  1710,  after  which 
it  was  called  Penny's  Folly,  and  here  men  with  learned 
horses,  musical  glasses,  and  similar  shows  entertained 
the  public.  The  gardens  were  extensive,  and  about 
1780  the  house  seems  to  have  been  rebuilt  and  christened 
Belvedere  Tavern,  which  name  it  still  bears.  Close  to 
it  was  another  tavern  known  as  Dobney's,  and  which 
originally  was  called  Prospect  House,  because  in  those 
days,  standing  as  it  did  on  the  top  of  what  was  then 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS    1G3 

styled  Islington  Hill,  it  really  commanded  a  fine 
prospect  north  and  south.  In  1770  Prospect  House 
was  taken  for  a  school,  but  soon  reopened  as  the 
Jubilee  Tea-Gardens,  in  commemoration  of  the  jubilee 
got  up  at  Stratford-on-Avon  by  Garrick  in  honour  of 
Shakespeare,  and  the  interior  of  the  bowers  was  painted 
with  scenes  from  his  plays.  In  1772  one  Daniel  Wild- 
man  here  performed  '  several  new  and  amazing  experi- 
ments never  attempted  by  any  man  in  this  or  any  other 
kingdom  before.  He  rides,  standing  upright,  one  foot 
on  the  saddle  and  the  other  on  the  horse's  neck,  with  a 
curious  mask  of  bees  on  his  head  and  face  .  .  .  and  by 
firing  a  pistol  makes  one  part  of  the  bees  march  over  a 
table  and  the  other  swarm  in  the  air  and  return  to 
their  proper  hive  again.'  He  also  advertised  that  he 
was  prepared  to  supply  the  nobility  and  gentry  with 
any  quantity  of  bees  from  one  stock  in  the  common  or 
newly-invented  hives.  In  1774  the  gardens  fell  into  a 
ruinous  condition,  but  there  were  still  two  handsome 
tea-rooms.  In  1780  the  house  was  converted  into  a 
discussion  and  lecture  room,  but  the  speculation  did 
not  answer;  the  place  was  cleared,  and  about  1790 
houses,  known  as  Winchester  Place,  were  erected  on  it. 
But  a  portion  of  the  gardens  remained  open  till  1810, 
when  that  also  disappeared,  and  the  only  remains  on 
the  site  of  this  once  famous  tea-garden  is  a  mean  court 
in  Penton  Street  called  Dobney's  Court.  The  Prospect 
House  to  which  the  gardens  belonged  still  stands 
behind  the  present  Belvedere  Tavern,  but  there  is  no 
sign  of  antiquity  about  it. 

In  1683  the  well  known  as  Sadler's  Well  was  dis- 
covered, and    Sadler's  Musick-House,  as  it  was  origi- 

11—2 


164  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

nally  called,  thenceforth  became  Sadler's  Well.  But  as 
it  was,  as  its  name  implied,  rather  a  house  for  musical 
entertainment  than  a  tea-garden,  and  as  its  history  is 
pretty  well  known,  we  pass  it  by  to  speak  of  a  well 
adjoining  it,  namely,  Islington  Wells  or  Spa,  or  New 
Tunbridge  Wells. 

This  well  was  already  in  repute  when  the  well  on 
Sadlers  land  was  discovered,  and  as  the  two  wells  were 
contiguous,  the  Spa  was  frequently  mistaken  for  Sadler's. 
About  the  year  1690  it  was  advertised  that  the  Spa 
would  open  for  drinking  the  medicinal  waters.  In  1700 
there  was  '  music  for  dancing  all  day  long  every  Monday 
and  Thursday  during  the  summer  season ;  no  masks  to 
be  admitted."*  A  few  years  later  the  Spa  became  fashion- 
able, being  patronized  by  ladies  of  such  position  as  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu.  In  1733  the  Princesses  Amelia 
and  Caroline,  daughters  of  George  II.,  came  daily  in  the 
summer  and  drank  the  waters ;  in  fact,  such  was  the 
concourse  of  nobility  and  others  that  the  proprietor 
took  upwards  of  thirty  pounds  in  a  morning.  When- 
ever the  Princesses  visited  the  Spa  they  were  saluted 
with  a  discharge  of  twenty-one  guns,  and  in  the  evening 
there  was  a  bonfire.     Ned  Ward  described  the  place : 

'  Lime  trees  were  placed  at  a  regular  distance, 
And  scrapers  were  giving  their  awful  assistance.' 

It  also  furnished  a  title  to  a  dramatic  trifle,  by  George 
Colman,  called  'The  Spleen,  or  Islington  Spa,'  acted  at 
Drury  Lane  in  1776.  The  proprietor,  Holland,  failing, 
the  Spa  was  sold  to  a  Mr.  Skinner  in  1778,  and  the 
gardens  were  reopened  every  morning  for  drinking  the 
waters,  and  in  the  afternoon  for  tea.     The  subscription 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS    165 


for  the  season  was  one  guinea ;  non-subscribers  drinking 
the  waters,  sixpence  each  morning.  At  the  beginning 
of  this  century  part  of  the  garden  was  built  on,  and 
about  1840  what  remained  was  covered  by  two  rows  of 
cottages,  called  Spa  Cottages.  At  present  there  is  at 
the  corner  of  Lloyd's  Row  a  small  cottage  with  the 
inscription  on  it,  '  Islington  Spa,  or  New  Tunbridge 
Wells.1 

The  Islington  Spa  must  not  be  confounded  with  a 
similar  neighbouring  establishment  in  Spa  Fields,  adjoin- 
ing Exmouth  Street.  The  locality  was  originally  called 
Ducking  Pond  Fields.  Hunting  ducks  with  dogs  was 
one  of  the  barbarous  amusements  our  ancestors  delighted 
in.  The  public-house  to  which  the  pond  belonged  was 
taken  down  in  1770,  and  on  its  site  was  erected  the 
Pantheon,  built  in  imitation  of  the  Oxford  Street 
Pantheon.  It  was  a  large  round  building,  with  a 
statue  of  Fame  on  the  top  of  it.  Internally  it  had  two 
galleries  and  a  pit,  and  in  the  winter  it  was  warmed  by 
a  stove,  having  fireplaces  all  round,  the  smoke  from 
which  was  carried  away  under  the  floor.  To  the  build- 
ing was  attached  an  extensive  garden,  disposed  in  fancy 
walks,  and  having  on  one  side  of  it  a  pond,  at  one  end 
of  which  was  a  statue  of  Hercules,  at  the  other  end 
stood  a  summer-house  for  company  to  sit  in.  There 
were  also  boxes  of  alcoves  all  round  the  gardens,  and 
two  tea-rooms  in  the  main  building  itself.  The  place 
was  well  patronized,  the  company  usually  consisting,  as 
described  in  the  Sunday  Ramble,  of  some  hundreds  of 
persons  of  both  sexes,  the  greater  part  of  which,  not- 
withstanding their  gay  appearance,  were  evidently 
neither  more  nor  less  than  journeymen   tailors,  hair- 


166  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

dressers,   and    other   such   people,    attended    by   their 
proper    companions,    milliners,    mantua  -  makers,    and 
servant-maids,   besides    other   and    more    objectionable 
characters  of  the  female  sex.     According;  to  a  letter 
addressed    to    the    St.    James's    Chronicle,    1772,    the 
Pantheon  was  a  place  of  '  infamous  resort,1  the  writer 
declaring  that  of  all  the  tea-houses  in  the  environs  of 
London,  the  most  exceptional  he  ever  had  occasion  to 
be  in  was  the  Pantheon.     He  was  particularly  annoyed 
at    being   frequently    asked    by    the    Cyprian    nymphs 
swarming  in  the  place  to  be  treated  with  '  a  dish  of 
tea.'     He  ought   to   have  heard   the  requests  of  our 
modern  Cyprians !    The  place,  however,  did  not  prosper; 
the  Rotunda  had  been  built  by  a  Mr.  Craven  ;  whilst  it 
was  being  erected  Mrs.  Craven  visited  it,  and  was  so 
overcome  by  the  gloomy  thoughts  that  troubled  her  mind 
that  she  gave  vent  to  tears,  and  remarked  to  a  friend  of 
hers  :  '  It  is  very  pretty,  but  I  foresee  that  it  will  be  the 
ruin  of  us,  and   one  day   or  other  be  turned    into   a 
Methodist  meeting-house."'     The  lady  had  a  prophetic 
mind,  for  in  1774  her  husband  became  bankrupt,  and 
the  Pantheon,  '  with  its  four  acres  of  garden,  laid  out 
in  the  most  agreeable  and  pleasing  style,  refreshed  with 
a  canal    abounding  with    carp,   tench,  etc.,  and    com- 
manding  a   pleasing   view   of    Hampstead,    Highgate, 
and  the  adjacent  country,"1  were  sold  by  auction,  and 
finally  closed  in  1776.     The  Rotunda,  as  foreseen  by 
Mrs.  Craven  in   1779,  became    one  of  the  chapels  of 
Selina,  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  under  the  name  of  Spa 
Fields  Chapel.     It  is  now  replaced  by  the  Episcopal 
Church  of  the  Holy  Redeemer. 

To  the  south  of  the  Pantheon,  in  Bowling  Green 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS    167 

Lane,  stood,  in  the  middle  of  the    last    century,  the 
Cherry  Tree    Public    House   and   Gardens,   with  their 
bowling-green.     The  gardens  took  their  name  from  the 
large  number  of  trees  bearing  that  fruit  which  grew 
there.     There  were  subscription  grounds  for  the  game 
of  nine-pins,  knock-'em-downs,  etc.,  and  the  house  was 
much  resorted   to  by  the  inhabitants  of  Clerkenwell. 
But  there  was  yet  another  well  in  this  locality,  which 
seems  to  have  been  a  very  solfatara  for  springs,  for  near 
King's  Cross  there  was  a  chalybeate  spring,  known  as 
St.  Chad's  Well,  supposed  to  be  useful  in  cases  of  liver 
attacks,    dropsy,   and    scrofula.       St.    Chad*    was    the 
founder  of  the  See  and  Bishopric  of  Lichfield,  and  was 
cured  of  some  awful  disease  by  drinking  the  waters  of 
this  well,  wherefore  his  name  was  given  to  it.     He  died 
about  673,  and  in  those  days  the  names  of  saints  were  as 
commercially  valuable  in  starting  a  well  or  other  natura* 
or  unnatural  phenomenon  as  the  names  of  lords  are  on 
modern  business  prospectuses.     And  St.  Chad  brought 
lots  of  custom  to  the  well,  for  as  late  as  the  last  century 
eight  or  nine  hundred  persons  a  morning  used  to  come 
and  drink   these  waters.      Nay,  fifty  years   ago   they 
drew  visitors  to  themselves  and  the  gardens  surrounding 
the  well.     On  a  post  might  be  seen  an  octagonal  board, 
with   the    legend,    '  Health    preserved    and    restored. , 
Further   on  stood   a    low,   old-fashioned,   comfortable- 
looking,  large-windowed  dwelling,  and  frequently  there 
might  also  be  seen  standing  at  the  open  door  an  ancient 
dame,  in  a  black  bonnet,  a  clean  blue  cotton  gown,  and 
a  checked  apron.     She  was  the  Lady  of  the  Well.     The 

*  He  is  a  saint  in   the   English  calendar,  and   his   day  ia 
March  2. 


168  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

gardens  might  be  visited  and  as  much  water  drunk  as 
you  pleased  for  £1  Is.  per  year,  9s.  6d.  quarterly, 
4s.  6d.  monthly,  and  Is.  6d.  weekly.  A  single  visit  and 
a  large  glassful  of  water  cost  6d.  The  water  was 
warmed  in  a  large  copper,  whence  it  was  drawn  off  into 
the  glass.  The  charge  of  6d.  was  eventually  reduced  to 
3d.  There  was  a  spacious  and  lofty  pump-room  and  a 
large  house  facing  Gray's  Inn  Road,  but  all  that  now 
remains  is  the  remembrance  of  the  well  in  the  name  of 
a  narrow  passage,  called  St.  Chad's  Place,  closed  at  its 
inner  end  by  an  old-fashioned  cottage  with  green 
shutters. 

We  will  ascend  Pentonville  Hill  again  to  Penton 
Street,  at  the  corner  of  which  stands  Belvedere  Tavern, 
formerly  Busby "s  Folly,  and,  going  up  Penton  Street  a 
little  way,  we  come  to  what  was  once  the  site  of  White 
Conduit  House,  the  present  White  Conduit  House 
tavern  covering  a  portion  of  the  old  gardens.  It  took 
its  name  from  a  conduit,  built  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VI., 
and  repaired  by  Sutton,  the  founder  of  the  Charter 
House.  The  house  was  at  first  small,  having  only  four 
windows  in  front ;  but  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century 
the  then  owner  could  advertise  that  '  for  the  better 
accommodation  of  gentlemen  and  ladies  he  had  com- 
pleted a  long  walk,  with  a  handsome  circular  fish-pond, 
a  number  of  shady,  pleasant  arbours,  enclosed  with  a 
fence  seven  feet  high  to  prevent  being  incommoded  by 
people  in  the  fields  ;  hot  loaves  and  butter  every  day, 
milk  directly  from  the  cows,  coffee,  tea,  and  all  manners 
of  liquors  in  the  greatest  perfection  ;  also  a  handsome 
long-room,  from  whence  is  the  most  copious  prospects 
and  airy  situation  of  any  now  in  vogue.1     A  long  poem 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS  169 

in  praise  of  the  house  appeared  in  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  in  1760.  It  was  written  by  William  Woty, 
a  Grub  Street  poet.  A  frequent  visitor  to  White 
Conduit  House  was  Goldsmith,  who  used  to  repair 
thither  with  some  of  his  friends,  after  he  had  discovered 
the  place,  as  he  relates  in  Letter  122  of  the  *  Citizen  of 
the  World.'  The  passage,  I  must  confess,  does  little 
honour  to  his  genius  or  his  taste,  and  I  wonder  he  did 
not  have  it  expunged  from  his  collected  writings.  As 
is  customary  with  such  places  of  amusement,  in  course 
of  time  the  company  did  not  improve,  though  in  1826 
it  was  attempted  to  revive  the  reputation  of  the  place, 
partly  by  calling  it  a  Minor  Vauxhall ;  but  nightly  dis- 
turbances and  the  encouragement  of  immorality  thereby, 
caused  it  to  be  suppressed  by  magisterial  authority  on 
the  proprietor's  application  for  the  renewal  of  his 
license.  About  1827  the  grounds  were  let  for  archery 
practice,  and  in  1828  the  old  house  was  pulled 
down  and  a  new  one  erected  in  its  place,  which  was 
opened  in  1829.  The  new  building  was  somewhat  in 
the  gin-palace  style  :  stucco  front,  pilasters,  cornices 
and  plate  glass.  It  contained  large  refreshment  rooms, 
and  a  long  and  lofty  ballroom  above,  where  the  dancing, 
if  not  very  refined,  was  vigorous.  Gentlemen  went 
through  country  dances  with  their  hats  on  and  their 
coats  off.  Eventually  the  master  of  the  ceremonies 
objected  to  the  hats,  and  they  were  left  off,  as  the  coats 
continued  to  be.  In  1849  this  elegant  place  of  amuse- 
ment was  demolished  and  streets  built  on  its  grounds, 
as  also  the  present  White  Conduit  Tavern. 

A    former    proprietor    of    White   Conduit    House, 
Christopher  Bartholomew,  died  in  positive  poverty  in 


170  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Angel  Court,  Windmill  Street,  'at  his  lodgings,  two 
pair  of  stairs  room,1  as  the  Gentlemans  Magazine, 
March,  1809,  says.  He  once  owned  the  freehold  of 
White  Conduit  House  and  of  the  neighbouring:  Angel 
inn,  and  was  worth  £ 50,000 ;  but  he  was  seized  with 
the  lottery  mania,  and  paid  as  much  as  i?l,000  a  day 
for  insurances.  By  degrees  he  sank  into  poverty,  but  a 
friend  having  supplied  him  with  the  means  of  obtaining 
a  thirty-second  share,  that  number  turned  up  a  prize  of 
<£20,000.  He  purchased  an  annuity  of  of  60  per  annum, 
but  foolishly  disposed  of  it  and  lost  it  all.  A  few  days 
before  he  died  he  begged  a  few  shillings  to  buy  him 
necessaries.  But  does  his  fate,  and  that  of  many  others 
equally  deluded,  act  as  a  warning  to  anyone?  We 
fear  not. 

White  Conduit  House  was  sold  in  1864,  by  order  of 
the  proprietor,  in  consequence  of  ill-health.  The  lease 
had  then  about  eighty  years  to  run,  at  the  rent  of  £S0 
per  annum.  The  property  fetched  ^8,990.  What 
price  would  it  fetch  now  ?  Public-houses  have  gone  up 
tremendously  since  then. 

Close  to  White  Conduit  House  was  another  famous 
house  of  entertainment,  that  is  to  say,  Copenhagen 
House,  which  was  opened  by  a  Dane  when  the  King  of 
Denmark  paid  a  visit  to  James  I.,  but  the  house  did 
not  attract  much  attention  till  after  the  Restoration, 
when  the  once  public-house  became  a  tea-garden,  with 
the  customary  amusements,  fives  -  playing  being  a 
favourite.  Hazlitt,  who  was  enthusiastic  about  the 
game,  immortalized  one  Cavanagh,  an  Irish  player,  who 
distinguished  himself  at  Copenhagen  House  by  playing 
matches  for  wagers  and  dinners.   The  wall  against  which 


LONDON  TAVERNS  AND  TEA-GARDENS    171 

they  played  was  that  which  supported  the  kitchen 
chimney,  and  when  the  ball  resounded  louder  than 
usual  the  cooks  exclaimed,  '  Those  are  the  Irishman's 
balls  P  'And  the  joints  trembled  on  their  spits,1  says 
Hazlitt.  The  next  landlord  encouraged  dog-fighting 
and  bull-baiting,  in  consequence  of  which  he  lost  his 
license  in  1816.  The  fields  around  Copenhagen  House, 
now  all  built  over,  were  the  scene  of  many  riotous 
assemblies  at  the  time  of  the  French  Revolution, 
Thelwall,  Home  Tooke,  and  other  sympathizers  with 
France  being  the  chief  instigators  and  leaders  of  those 
meetings. 

Going  considerably  northward,  we  reach  Highbury 
Barn,  which,  with  lands  belonging  thereto,  was  leased 
in  1482  by  the  Prior  of  the  monastery  of  St.  John  of 
Jerusalem  to  John  Man  tell,  described  as  citizen  and 
butcher  of  London.  The  property  thus  leased  com- 
prised the  Grange  place,  with  Highbury  Barn,  a  garden, 
and  '  castell  Hilles,1  two  little  closures  containing  five 
acres,  and  a  field  called  Snoresfeld,  otherwise  Bushfield. 
Highbury  Barn  was  at  first  a  small  ale  and  cake  house, 
and  as  such  is  mentioned  early  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  Gradually  it  grew  into  a  tavern  and  tea- 
garden.  A  Mr.  Willoughby,  who  died  in  1785,  in- 
creased the  business,  and  his  successor  added  a  bowling- 
green,  a  trap-ball  ground,  and  more  gardens.  The  barn 
could  accommodate  2,000  persons  at  once,  and  800 
people  have  been  seen  dining  together,  with  seventy 
geese  roasting  for  them  at  one  fire.  Early  in  this 
century  a  dancing  and  a  dining  room  were  added.  Near 
this  house  there  was,  in  1868,  found  in  a  field  a  vase 
containing  nearly  1,000  silver  coins,  consisting  of  silver 


172  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

pennies,  groats  and  half-groats,  two  gold  coins  of 
Edward  III.,  and  an  amber  rosary.  The  manor  of 
Highbury  having,  as  we  have  seen,  belonged  to  the 
Knights  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  the  coins  may  have 
been  buried  by  them  at  the  time  of  the  insurrection  of 
Wat  Tyler,  whose  followers  destroyed  the  monastery 
and  also  made  an  attack  on  the  Priors  house  at  High- 
bury.    The  coins  are  now  in  the  British  Museum. 

But  we  find  we  have  got  to  the  end  of  the  space 
allotted  to  us,  and  though  we  have  only,  as  it  were, 
dipped  into  the  bulk  of  our  subject,  we  must  defer  for 
some  other  opportunity  the  description  of  the  large 
number  of  old  tea-gardens  still  to  be  noticed.  We 
will  here  only  indicate  the  most  important  of  them : 
Camberwell  Grove,  Cuper's  Gardens,  Chalk  Farm, 
Canonbury  House,  Cumberland  Gardens,  Cupid  Gardens, 
Sluice  House,  Eel-pie  House,  St.  Helen's,  Hornsey 
Wood,  Hoxton,  Kilburn  Wells,  Mermaid,  Marylebone, 
Montpellier,  Ranelagh,  Paris  Gardens,  Shepherd  and 
Shepherdess,  Union  Gardens,  Yorkshire  Stingo,  Jew's 
Harp,  Adam  and  Eve,  Tottenham  Court  Road ;  Adam 
and  Eve,  St.  Pancras  ;  the  Brill,  Mulberry  Gardens, 
Springfield,  and  others  of  less  note. 


XIII. 

WILLIAM  PATERSON  AND  THE  BANK  OF 
ENGLAND. 

SOME  London  streets  have  strange  and  unsuitable 
names ;  thus  you  will  find  an  alley  of  wretched 
hovels,  with  muddy  yards,  containing  nothing  but 
cabbage-stumps  and  broken  dustbins,  called  Prospect 
Place;  whilst  a  lane  adjoining  the  shambles  styles  itself 
Paradise  How.  And  what  a  curious  name  for  a  street 
is  that  of  Threadneedle*  Street !  How  came  the  street 
to  be  so  named  ?  However,  such  is  its  name,  and  in 
this  case  it  is  not  inappropriate.  For  lives  there  not  in 
that  street  the  Old  Lady  who  is,  year  in,  year  out,  ever- 
lastingly threading  her  diamond  needle  with  gold  and 
silver  threads,  and  working  the  gorgeous  embroidery  of 
the  financial  flags  of  her  own  and  of  almost  every  other 
country  in  the  world  ?  Her  dwelling  is  palatial ;  to  be 
merely  admitted  into  her  parlour  is  in  itself  a  positive 
proof  of  your  respectability,  for  you  gain  no  entrance 

*  Stow  calls  it  Three  Needle  Street,  as  Hatton  supposes,  from 
such  a  sign.  It  has  also  been  written  Thrid  Needle  and  Thred 
Needle  Street,  but  our  ancestors  were  not  so  particular  as 
to  spelling  as  we  are. 


174  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

thereto  unless  you  are  a  stockholder ;  as  to  her  drawing- 
room,  the  glories  of  Versailles  and  the  Escurial  are  as 
miserable  shanties,  for  her  drawing  -  room  contains, 
leaving  alone  other  treasures,  engravings  worth  from 
five  pounds  each  to  fifty  thousand — nay,  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds  each.  There  is  no  five  o'clock  tea 
there,  but  plenty  of  music  all  day  long ;  its  notes, 
indeed,  are  silent,  but  the  gold  and  silver  instruments, 
whose  fascinating  and  entrancing  sounds  have  more 
magic  in  them  than  has  the  finest  orchestra,  vocal  or 
instrumental,  are  audible  enough.  And  as  to  her 
cellars,  the  treasures  the  Old  Lady  keeps  there  would 
buy  up  half  a  dozen  such  caves  as  that  into  which 
Aladdin  descended. 

The  reader  has  by  this  time  discovered  who  the  Old 
Lady  of  Threadneedle  Street  is — namely,  the  Bank  of 
England — the  most  gigantic  monetary  establishment 
in  the  world,  the  financial  reservoir,  the  opening  or 
shutting  of  whose  sluices  causes  not  only  the  commercial 
ebb  and  flow  of  east  and  west,  of  north  and  south,  but 
sets  in  motion  or  prevents  the  '  pomp  and  circumstance 
of  glorious  war.1 

The  history  of  this  mighty  establishment  has  often 
been  told,  but  it  seems  to  us  that  but  scant  justice  has 
as  yet  been  done  to  its  founder,  William  Paterson. 
The  injustice  done  to  him,  in  fact,  dates  from  an  early 
day,  for  soon  after  the  foundation  of  the  Bank,  of 
which  he  naturally  was  one  of  the  directors,  intrigue 
drove  him  from  that  position,  and  envy  and  obloquy 
pursued  him  ever  after.  But  let  us  briefly  recount  his 
early  history. 

Born  on  a  farm  in  Dumfriesshire  in  1658  of  a  family 


WILLIAM  PATERSON  AND  THE  BANK     175 

notable  in  old  Scottish  history,  he  was,  at  the  age  of 
sixteen,  transferred  to  the  care  of  a  kinswoman  at 
Bristol,  on  whose  death  he  inherited  some  property. 
Bristol  was  then  a  great  commercial  emporium,  doing 
with  much  legitimate  business  a  little  in  the  slave  trade, 
and  his  connection  with  that  town  was  afterwards 
injurious  to  him,  for  whilst  his  friends  said  that  he 
visited  the  New  World  as  a  missionary,  his  enemies 
asserted  that  he  was  mixed  up  with  slave-dealing,  and 
occasionally  indulged  in  piracy.  But  the  fact  of  his 
marrying  the  widow  of  a  Puritan  minister  at  Boston  is 
more  in  accordance  with  the  statements  of  his  friends 
than  with  those  of  his  enemies.  Anderson,  the  historian 
of  commerce,  who  as  a  lad  must  have  known  him  in  his 
old  age,  speaks  of  him  as  '  a  merchant  who  had  been 
much  in  foreign  countries,  and  had  entered  far  into 
speculations  relating  to  commerce  and  the  colonies.-' 

He  was  in  England  in  1681,  and,  among  the  various 
schemes  he  started,  he  took  a  leading  part  in  the  project 
for  bringing  water  into  the  north  of  London  from  the 
Hampstead  and  Highgate  hills.  He  made  a  heavy 
investment  in  the  City  of  London  Orphans1  Fund  ;  in 
the  improved  management  and  distribution  of  that 
charity  he  took  a  profound  interest,  a  fact  which  leaves 
no  doubt  of  his  philanthropic  and  public  spirit.  It 
was  in  1684  that  he  first  conceived  the  idea  of  the 
Darien  scheme,  and  though  this  turned  out  so  unfortu- 
nate, he  from  first  to  last  acted  with  rare  disinterested- 
ness ;  his  errors  were  those  such  as  a  well-balanced  and 
generous  mind  might  fall  into  without  reproach.  Nor 
is  the  failure  of  that  enterprise  to  be  attributed  to  him, 
but  to  the  conduct  of  William  III.,  who  had  sanctioned, 


176  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

but  afterwards,  at  the  instigation  of  the  East  India 
Companies  of  England  and  Holland,  discouraged  and 
positively  thwarted,  it.  How  deeply  he  felt  the 
disastrous  results  of  the  expedition  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  for  a  time  his  mind  was  deranged  in  conse- 
quence of  it.  And  who  will  now  deny  that  Paterson 
was  right  in  calling  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  the  '  door 
of  the  seas  and  the  key  of  the  universe 1  ?  In  1825 
Humboldt  recommended  the  scheme  of  a  canal  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  and  the  enterprise  of 
Lesseps  will  yet  be  carried  to  a  successful  issue. 

However,  we  have  to  deal  with  Paterson  chief! v  as  the 
founder  of  the  Bank  of  England,  and  with  the  long  and 
fierce  battle  he  had  to  fight  to  accomplish  his  object, 
for  there  was  great  opposition  to  it  from  interest  and 
prejudice.  Paterson  had  been  long  in  Holland,  and 
when  he  propounded  his  scheme  of  a  Bank  of  England, 
the  people  objected  to  it  as  coming  from  Holland ; 
'  they  had  too  many  Dutch  things  already,1  just  as  now 
there  is  a  prejudice  against  things  'made  in  Germany ., 
Moreover,  they  doubted  the  stability  of  the  Govern- 
ment of  William  III.  At  last,  however,  they  consented 
to  the  Bank,  on  the  express  condition  that  d£l, 200,000 
should  be  subscribed  and  lent  to  the  Government.  The 
money  was  subscribed  in  ten  days.  The  Bank  Act  was 
obtained  in  spite  of  all  opposition,  which  perhaps 
would  have  prevailed  had  not  Queen  Mary,  acting  on 
the  instruction  of  William  (then  in  Flanders),  during  a 
six  hours1  sitting,  carried  the  point,  and  the  company 
received  their  royal  charter  of  incorporation  in  July, 
1694.  Almost  as  soon  as  it  had  been  established  the 
Bank  was  called  upon  to  assist  the  Government  in  the 


WILLIAM  PATERSON  AND  THE  BANK    177 

re-coinage  of  the  silver  money.  The  notes  of  the  new 
Bank  were  destined  to  fill  up  the  vacuum  occasioned  by 
the  calling  in  of  the  old  coin,  but  as  the  notes  were 
payable  on  demand,  they  were  returned  faster  than 
coin  could  be  obtained  from  the  Mint ;  a  crisis  ensued, 
during  which  the  notes  of  the  Bank  fell  to  a  discount 
of  20  per  cent.  But  the  Bank  passed  safely  through  its 
difficulties,  as  also  through  the  troubles  caused  by  the 
South  Sea  Bubble.  The  opposition  in  the  first  crisis 
was  due  chiefly  to  the  goldsmiths,  who  detested  the 
new  corporation  because  it  interfered  with  their  system 
of  private  banking,  hitherto  monopolized  by  them. 
Patersons  advice  was  of  the  greatest  assistance  in  his 
capacity  of  director,  yet  such  was  the  animus  against 
him  that,  as  we  mentioned  above,  in  1695  he  sold  out 
the  stock  he  held  (i?2,000),  which  from  the  first  was  a 
director's  qualification,  and  retired  from  his  office.  But 
he  did  not  withdraw  from  public  life.  The  Darien 
Expedition  already  referred  to  was  organized  by  him 
in  1698,  and  its  disastrous  results  were,  as  we  have 
shown,  in  nowise  attributable  to  him,  and  this  was,  in 
fact,  eventually  admitted  by  the  nation,  Parliament  in 
1715  passing  an  Act  awarding  him  an  indemnity  of 
upwards  of  £18,000  for  his  losses  in  that  enterprise. 
In  other  ways  Paterson  continued  to  interest  himself  in 
matters  affecting  the  public  welfare  ;  he  rendered  his 
Sovereign  signal  services  by  the  wise  and  shrewd  advice 
he  gave  him  during  the  latter  part  of  his  troubled 
reign ;  he  published  many  tracts  on  the  management  of 
the  National  Debt  and  the  system  of  auditing  public 
accounts ;  he  was  a  zealous  advocate  of  Eree  Trade,  and 
his  views  on  the  subject  of  taxation  were  far  ahead  of 

12 


178  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  ideas  of  his  day.  His  undoubtedly  great  talents, 
his  thorough  honesty  and  genuine  patriotism,  fully 
entitle  him  to  the  praise  given  him  by  his  friend 
Daniel  Defoe,  as  '  a  worthy  and  noble  patriot,  one  of 
the  most  eminent,  to  whom  we  owe  more  than  ever  he 
would  tell  us,  or,  I  am  afraid,  we  shall  ever  be  sensible 
of,  whatever  fools,  madmen,  or  Jacobites  may  asperse 
him  with.*1 

We  cannot  attempt  to  give  a  history  of  the  Bank  of 
England  in  our  limited  space,  but  a  short  account  of 
the  Bank  building  may  not  unfitly  close  this  notice  of 
the  founder  of  the  establishment.  The  business  was 
originally  started  at  Mercers1  Hall,  and  next  removed 
to,  and  for  many  years  carried  on  at,  Grocers1  Hall  in 
the  Poultry.  In  August,  1732,  the  governors  and 
directors  laid  the  first  stone  of  their  new  building  in 
Threadneedle  Street,  on  the  site  of  the  house  and 
garden  formerly  belonging  to  Sir  John  Houblon,  the 
first  Governor  of  the  Bank.  At  first  the  buildings 
comprised  only  the  centre  of  the  principal  or  south 
front,  the  Hall,  Bullion  Court,  and  the  Courtyard,  and 
were  surrounded  by  St.  Christopher-le-Stocks  Church, 
three  taverns,  and  several  private  houses.  From  the 
year  1766  onwards  considerable  additions  were  made  to 
the  building.  All  the  adjoining  houses  on  the  east 
side  to  Bartholomew  Lane,  and  those  occupying  the 
west  side  of  that  lane  almost  to  Lothbury,  were  taken 
down,  and  their  places  occupied  by  offices  of  the  Bank. 
The  south  side  buildings,  forming  the  eastern  continua- 
tion of  the  establishment,  presented  a  range  of  fluted 
columns  in  pairs,  with  arched  intervals  between,  point- 
ing out  where  windows  should  have  been  placed,  which, 


WILLIAM  PATERSON  AND  THE  BANK     179 

however,  were  filled  up  with  stone.  This  necessitated 
the  rooms  within  being  lighted  by  small  glass  domes  in 
the  roof,  a  circumstance  much  complained  of  at  the 
time  by  the  clerks  as  injuriously  affecting  their  eyes. 
It  was  intended  to  extend  the  facade  on  the  western 
side  by  taking  down  the  Church  of  St.  Christopher, 
which  by  the  removal  of  that  part  of  Threadneedle 
Street  had  been  deprived  of  a  great  part  of  its  parish. 
Noorthouck,  who  wrote  in  1773,  says :  '  How  far  so 
extensive  a  plan  may  answer  the  vast  expense  it  will 
call  for  to  complete  it  is  a  question  proper  for  the  con- 
sideration of  those  who  are  immediately  concerned ;  an 
indifferent  spectator  cannot  view  this  expanded  fabric 
without  comparing  it  with  the  growth  of  public  debts 
negotiated  here,  and  trembling  more  for  the  safety  of 
the  one  than  of  the  other.''  Could  he  see  the  Bank 
now,  covering  nearly  four  acres  of  ground,  what  would 
he  say  ? 

One  Ralph,  architect,  whose  '  Critical  Review  of  the 
Buildings,  Statues,  and  Ornaments  in  and  about 
London1  was  published  in  1783,  says:  'The  building 
erected  for  the  Bank  is  liable  to  the  very  same  objec- 
tion, in  point  of  place,  with  the  Royal  Exchange,  and 
even  in  a  greater,  too.  It  is  monstrously  crowded  on 
the  eye,  and  unless  the  opposite  houses  could  be  pulled 
down,  and  a  view  obtained  into  Cornhill,  we  might  as 
well  be  entertained  with  a  prospect  of  the  model 
through  a  microscope.  As  to  the  structure  itself,  it 
is  grand  .  .  .  only  the  architect  seems  to  be  rather  too 
fond  of  decoration ;  this  appears  pretty  'eminently  by 
the  weight  of  his  cornices  .  .  .  rather  too  heavy  for 
the  building.'   The  objectionable  buildings  here  referred 

12—2 


180  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

to  were  the  triangular  block  of  houses  which  formerly 
stood  in  front  of  the  old  Royal  Exchange,  but  was 
removed  on  the  building  of  the  new. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  century  the  Bank  on  the 
south  side  was  of  the  same  extent  as  now  ;  on  the  east 
side  also  it  extended  to  Lothbury,  on  the  west  it 
reached  to  about  half  the  length  of  the  present  Princes 
Street,  which,  however,  then  did  not  proceed  in  a 
straight  line,  as  it  does  now,  but  took  a  sharp  turn  to 
north-east,  coming  into  Lothbury  at  a  point  nearly 
opposite  St.  Margaret's  Church,  and  thus  cutting  off  a 
corner  of  the  Bank  site,  which  would  otherwise  have 
been  nearly  square.  But  when,  early  in  this  century, 
Princes  Street  was  extended  in  a  straight  line  to  Loth- 
bury, the  condensed  portion  of  the  street,  together  with 
a  block  of  houses  on  the  west  side  of  it,  were  added  to 
the  Bank  site,  and  the  Bank  assumed  its  present  shape. 
But  great  architectural  improvements  had  in  the  mean- 
time been  introduced.  The  original  or  central  portion, 
eighty  feet  in  length,  which  was  of  the  Ionic  order 
raised  on  a  rusticated  basement,  was  altered  to  what  it 
now  is  ;  the  attic  seen  on  it  was  added  in  1850.  This 
original  portion  was  from  the  design  of  George 
Sampson.  The  east  and  west  wings  were  added  by  Sir 
Robert  Taylor,  after  whom  Sir  John  Soane  was 
appointed  the  Bank  architect,  and  he  rebuilt  many  of 
those  parts  constructed  by  Sampson  and  Taylor  ;  and 
on  Sir  John's  death  in  1837  Mr.  Cockerell  succeeded 
him  in  the  position.  He  again  greatly  modified  many 
features  of  the  building.  The  eighty  feet  of  the 
original  south  side  now  extend  to  365  feet ;  the  length 
of  the  west  side  is  440  feet,  of  the  north  side  410  feet, 


WILLIAM  PATERSON  AND  THE  BANK     181 

and  of  the  east  side  245  feet.  Both  internally  and 
externally  classical  models  have  been  followed.  The 
hall  known  as  the  Three  Per  Cent.  Consol  (three  per 
cent.,  alas  !  gone)  Office,  ninety  feet  long  by  fifty  wide, 
is  designed  from  models  of  the  Roman  baths,  as  are  the 
Dividend  and  Bank  Stock  Offices.  The  chief  cashier's 
office  is  forty-five  feet  by  thirty,  and  designed  after  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun  and  Moon  at  Rome.  The  Court 
Room  of  the  composite  order,  about  sixty  feet  long  and 
thirty-one  wide,  is  lighted  by  large  Venetian  windows 
on  the  south,  overlooking  what  once  was  the  church- 
yard of  St.  Christopher's  Church,  and  into  which  in 
1852  a  fountain  was  placed,  which  throws  a  single  jet, 
thirty  feet  high,  amongst  the  branches  of  two  of  the 
finest  lime-trees  in  London.  The  north  side  of  the 
Court  Room  is  remarkable  for  three  exquisite  chimney- 
pieces  of  statuary  marble.  The  original  Rotunda  was 
roofed  in  with  timber,  but  in  1794  it  was  found 
advisable  to  take  it  down,  and  the  present  Rotunda  was 
built,  which  measures  fifty-seven  feet  in  diameter,  and 
about  the  same  in  height ;  it  is  of  incombustible 
material,  as  are  all  the  offices  erected  by  Sir  John 
Soane.  There  are  a  number  of  courts  within  the  outer 
walls  of  the  buildings ;  they  are  all  of  great  architectural 
beauty ;  the  one  entered  from  Lothbury  is  truly  mag- 
nificent. It  has  screens  of  fluted  Corinthian  columns, 
supporting  a  lofty  entablature,  surmounted  by  vases. 
This  part  of  the  edifice  was  copied  from  the  beautiful 
temple  of  the  Sybils,  near  Tivoli.  A  noble  arch,  an 
imitation  of  the  arch  of  Constantine  at  Rome,  gives 
access  to  the  Bullion  Court,  in  which  is  another  row 
of   Corinthian    columns,   supporting    an    entablature, 


182  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

decorated  with  statues  representing  the  four  quarters  of 
the  globe.  The  north-west  corner  of  the  Bank  is 
modelled  on  the  temple  of  Vesta  at  Rome.  We  have 
yet  to  mention  the  Old  Lady's  Drawing-Room,  or  the 
pay-office,  where  bank-notes  are  issued,  or  exchanged  for 
cash.  It  is  a  fine  hall,  seventy-nine  feet  long  by  forty 
wide,  and  we  have  left  the  mention  of  it  to  the  last 
because  it  suggests  to  us  some  particular  reflections. 
We  have  seen  that  Paterson  was  the  real  founder  of  the 
Bank  of  England,  and  we  may  take  this  opportunity 
of  adding  that  Charles  Montague  and  Michael  Godfrey 
are  entitled  to  share  in  Paterson's  glory  for  the  assist- 
ance they  lent  him  in  this  undertaking ;  but  the  Bank 
ignores  its  founder,  and  had  not  even  a  portrait  of  him 
till  Mr.  James  Hogg,  the  founder  of  London  Society 
presented  them  with  one.  In  the  Pay  Hall  stands  the 
statue  of  William  III.,  and  in  the  Latin  inscription 
underneath  he  is  called  '  founder  of  the  Bank.1  It  is 
the  old  story  :  when  a  prize  is  taken  at  sea  the  biggest 
share  of  it,  the  lion's  share,  goes  to  the  '  Flag 1 ;  the 
real  fighters  must  put  up  with  the  leavings. 

Let  us  end  with  another  philosophical  reflection. 
Facts  are  more  astounding  than  fiction,  as  we  will 
show  by  two  facts.  Gaboriaus  novel  'La  Degrin- 
golade '  (The  Downfall),  in  one  of  its  earliest  chapters 
describes  the  opening  of  a  grave  in  the  Parisian 
cemetery  of  Montmartre,  to  discover  whether  it  con- 
tains the  body  of  a  certain  person  or  not.  The  coffin 
is  found  to  be  empty.  This  is  a  fiction,  but  are  we  not 
likely  to  see  its  realization  shortly  ?  Paul  FevaFs 
romance  '  Les  Mysteres  de  Londres '  gives  a  long 
account  of  the  fictitious  attempt  of  some  villains  to  get 


WILLIAM  PATERSON  AND  THE  BANK     183 

at  the  treasures  in  the  cellars  of  the  Bank  of  England 
by  digging  a  tunnel  under  Threadneedle  Street ;  they 
are,  of  course,  foiled  in  the  end.  But  now,  according 
to  accounts  published  at  the  end  of  the  month  of 
November,  1898,  in  the  Daily  Mail,  the  tunnel  is 
actually  dug  by  a  railway  company,  and  so  close  to  the 
walls  of  the  Bank  as  to  actually  compel  its  governors 
and  directors  to  call  in  the  assistance  of  Sir  John  Wolfe 
Barry  to  advise  means  to  avert  the  danger  which 
threatens  the  building,  already  affected  by  the  ex- 
cavations.    Truly  fact  is  stranger  than  fiction. 


XIV. 
THE  OLD  DOCTORS. 

THE  lines  of  modern  doctors  have  fallen  in  pleasant 
places.  Their  position  is  certainly  somewhat 
different  from  what  it  was  in  the  days  when 
they  were  contemptuously  called  leeches,  when  their 
scientific  investigations  exposed  them  to  persecution 
and  death.  Vesalius,  the  father  of  modern  anatomy, 
was  condemned  to  death  by  the  Inquisition  for  dis- 
secting a  human  body,  but  by  the  intervention  of 
King  Philip  II.,  whose  physician  he  was,  the  punish- 
ment was  reduced  to  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land ; 
on  his  return  the  ship  was  lost  on  the  island  of 
Zante,  where  he  perished  of  starvation  in  1564.  Now 
Government  licenses  doctors  to  practise  vivisection ! 
At  Dijon,  in  1386,  a  physician  was  fined  by  the  bailiff 
fifty  golden  francs,  and  imprisoned  for  not  having 
completed  the  cures  of  some  persons  whose  recovery  he 
had  undertaken.  In  a  schedule  of  the  offices,  fees,  and 
services  which  the  Lord  Wharton  had  with  the  Wardenry 
of  the  city  and  castle  of  Carlisle  in  1547,  a  trumpeter 
was  rated  at  16d.  per  day,  and  a  surgeon  only  at 
12d.     Edward  III.  granted  Counsus  de  Gangeland,  an 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  185 

apothecary   of   London,   6d.   a   day    for   his   care   and 
attendance    on    him    while    he    formerly    lay    sick    in 
Scotland.     A  knowledge  of  astrology  was  in  those  days 
requisite  for  a  physician ;    the  herbs  were  not  to   be 
gathered  except  when  the  sun  and  the  planets  were  in 
certain  constellations,  and  certificates  of  their  being  so 
were  necessary  to    give    them   reputation.     Sometimes 
patients  applied  to  astrologers,  who  were  astrologers 
only,  whether  the  constellations  were  favourable  to  the 
doctor's  remedies.     Then,  if  the  man  died,  the  astrologer 
ascribed  the  death  to   the  inefficacy  of  the  remedies, 
whUe  the  doctor  threw  the  blame  on  the  astrologer,  he 
not  having  properly  observed  the  constellations.     Then 
the  latter  would  exclaim  that  his  case  was  extremely 
hard  ;  if  he  made  a  mistake,  his  calculation  being  wrong, 
heaven  discovered  it,  whilst  if  a  physician  was  guilty  of 
a  blunder,  the  earth   covered  it.     Even  then  doctors 
were   considered   like  the  potato  plant,  whose  fruit  is 
underground.       To    see    the    doctor's    carriage,    whose 
motto  should  be  '  Live  or  die,1  or  '  Morituri  te  salutant,' 
attending  a  funeral,  reminds  a  cynic  of  a  cobbler  taking 
home  his  work. 

In  England  the  medical  profession  rose  in  public 
estimation  from  the  time  when  Henry  VIII.,  with  that 
view,  incorporated  several  members  of  the  profession 
into  a  body,  community,  and  perpetual  college,  since 
called  the  College  of  Physicians.  The  seven  been th  and 
eighteenth  centuries,  with  their  opposite  characteristics 
of  vulgarity  and  romance,  of  squalor  and  luxury,  of 
ignorance  and  grand  discoveries  in  science,  of  prejudice 
and  intelligence,  were  highly  conducive  to  the  formation 
and    cultivation    of    individualism    and    originality    of 


186  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

character;  hence  those  two  centuries  abounded  in 
'  oddities '  and  '  eccentricities,"1  and  in  no  section  of 
society  more  than  in  the  medical.  The  members  of 
that  profession  could  very  readily  and  appropriately 
then  be  divided  into  two  great  schools — the  Rough  and 
the  Smooth,  the  fierce  dispensers  of  Brimstone  and  the 
gentle  administrators  of  Treacle.  The  present  century, 
with  its  levelling  tendencies,  opposed  to  all  originality 
and  so-called  eccentricity  in  speech,  custom,  and 
costume,  reducing  all  gentlemen  in  full  dress  to  the 
rank  of  waiters,  has  nearly  abolished  the  sulphury 
Galen ;  in  fact,  he  would  scarcely  be  tolerated  now. 
People  submit  to  certain  foolish  pretensions  now,  such 
as  those  of  thought-reading  and  pin-hunting  cranks, 
and  similar  mental  eccentricities  ;  but  they  must  be 
administered  mildly,  there  must  be  a  treacly  flavour 
about  them,  for — 

'  This  is  an  age  of  flatness,  dull  and  dreary, 

Society  is  like  a  washed-out  chintz, 
Which  scandal  renders  somewhat  foul  and  smeary  ; 

And  yet,  without  its  malice,  lies,  and  hints, 
E'en  fashion's  children  would  at  last  grow  weary 

Of  looking  at  the  faded  cotton  prints 
To  which  respectability  subdues 
Our  uncontrolled  imagination's  hues.' 

Hence  the  medical  showmen  of  the  present  day  must  ac- 
company the  '  exhibition '  of  their  nostrums  with  dulcet 
sounds  and  honeyed  speeches,  especially  when  treating 
those  nursed  in  the  lap  of  affluence  ;  and,  accustomed  as 
they  are  to  adulation,  the  medico  who  can  condescend 
to  feed  them  with  well-disguised  flattery,  or  assume  the 
tone  of  abject   servility,  has  too  often  the  credit  of 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  187 

possessing  superior  skill  and  science.     And  the  patients, 
in  the  words  of  Byron,  travestied — 

1  They  swallow  filthy  draughts  and  nauseous  pills, 
But  yet  there  is  no  end  of  human  ills.' 

It  was,  of  course,  not  every  doctor  who  could,  at  the 
beginning  of  his  career,  go  in  for  the  brimstone  system. 
Unless  he  was  backed  by  very  powerful  patronage,  or 
wrote  a  book  or  pamphlet  which  attracted  attention — 
as  Elliotsons  practice  rose  from  i?500  to  £5,000  a  year 
through  his  papers  in  the  Lancet — or  was  by  some  lucky 
accident  pitched  into  a  position  which  by  itself  alone 
inspired  the  public  with  an  overwhelming  belief  in  his 
skill,  the  experiment  of  treating  his  patients  with  rudeness 
and  indifference  would  have  been  fatal  to  his  prospects. 
But  let  him  once  make  a  hit,  either  by  being  luckily  on 
the  spot  when  a  king  or  prince  was  thrown  off  his  horse, 
or  by  a  successful  operation,  or  by  writing  a  book  which 
*  caught  on,"1  and  the  public  were  at  his  feet,  and  he 
could  trample  on  them  as  much  as  he  liked.  But  it 
did  not  follow  that,  after  such  success,  he  must  neces- 
sarily abuse  his  privileges.  Dr.  Arbuthnot,  the  son  of 
a  non-juring  clergyman  in  Scotland,  came  to  London 
about  the  time  of  the  Restoration,  and  at  first  earned 
a  living  by  teaching  mathematics,  though  he  had 
studied  medicine.  He  happened  to  be  at  Epsom  on 
one  occasion  when  Prince  George,  who  was  also  there, 
was  suddenly  taken  ill.  Arbuthnot  was  called  in,  and 
having  effected  a  cure,  was  soon  afterwards  appointed 
one  of  the  physicians  in  ordinary  to  the  Queen.  And, 
of  course,  his  practice  was  established  on  a  solid  founda- 
tion, and  he  carried  it  on  with  considerable  professional 


188  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

distinction.  But  his  success  did  not  spoil  him,  for  he 
was  a  man  of  a  genial  disposition,  who  turned  neither 
to  brimstone  nor  to  treacle,  but  always  maintained  a 
dignified  demeanour.  He  was  a  wit  and  a  man  of 
letters,  and  enjoyed  the  esteem  of  such  men  as  Swift, 
Pope,  and  Gay.  Before  coining  to  London  he  had 
chosen  Dorchester  as  a  place  to  practise  as  a  physician, 
but  the  salubrity  of  the  air  was  opposed  to  his  success, 
and  he  took  horse  for  London.  A  friend  meeting  him, 
asked  him  where  he  was  going.  '  To  leave  your  con- 
founded place,  where  I  can  neither  live  nor  die."*  It 
was  said  of  him  that  his  wit  and  pleasantry  sometimes 
assisted  his  prescriptions,  and  in  some  cases  rendered 
them  unnecessary.  He  died  at  the  age  of  sixty  from  a 
complication  of  disorders,  so  little  is  the  physician  able 
to  cure  himself. 

Sir  Astley  Cooper  (b.  1768,  d.  1841)  also  did  not 
belong  to  the  brimstone  school.  His  surgical  skill  was 
very  great,  and  he  liked  to  display  it.  He  always 
retained  perfect  self-command  in  the  operating  theatre, 
and  during  the  most  critical  and  dangerous  performances 
on  a  patient,  he  tried  to  keep  up  the  latter's  courage  by 
lively  and  facetious  remarks.  When  he  was  in  the 
zenith  of  his  fame,  a  satirical  Sawbones  said  of  him  : 

'  Nor  Drury  Lane  nor  Common  Garden 
Are,  to  my  fancy,  worth  a  farden  ; 

I  hold  them  both  small  beer. 
Give  me  the  wonderful  exploits, 
And  jolly  jokes  between  the  sleights, 
Of  Astley' s  Amphitheatre' 

When  Sir  Astley  lived  in  Broad  Street,  City,  he  had 
every  day  a  numerous  morning  levee  of  City  patients. 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  189 

The  room  into  which  they  were  shown  would  hold  from 
forty  to  fifty  people,  and  often  callers,  after  waiting  for 
hours,  were  dismissed  without  having  seen  the  doctor. 
His  man  Charles,  with  more  than  his  master's  dignity, 
would  say  to  disappointed  applicants  when  they  re- 
appeared on  the  following  morning :  '  I  am  not  sure 
that  we  shall  be  able  to  attend  to  you,  for  our  list  is 
full  for  the  day;  but  if  you  will  wait,  I  will  see  what 
we  can  do  for  you.1  During  the  first  nine  years  of  his 
practice  Sir  Astley's  earnings  progressed  thus  :  First 
year,  £5  5s.  ;  second,  £26 ;  third,  £64 ;  fourth,  £96 ; 
fifth,  £100  ;  sixth,  £200 ;  seventh,  £400  ;  eighth,  £600 ; 
ninth,  £1,100.  Eventually  his  annual  income  rose  to 
more  than  £15,000 ;  the  largest  sum  he  ever  made  in 
one  year  was  £21,000.  A  West  Indian  millionaire 
gave  him  his  highest  fee ;  he  had  successfully  undergone 
a  painful  operation,  and  sitting  up  in  bed,  he  threw  his 
nightcap  at  Cooper,  saying,  '  Take  that !'  '  Sir,'  re- 
plied Sir  Astley,  '  I'll  pocket  the  affront ;'  and  on 
reaching  home  he  found  in  the  cap  a  cheque  for  one 
thousand  guineas. 

Dr.  Matthew  Baillie  (b.  1761,  d.  1823)  was  a  physician 
who  occasionally  indulged  in  the  brimstone  temper,  and 
was  disinclined  to  attend  to  the  details  of  an  uninterest- 
ing case.  After  listening  on  one  occasion  to  a  long- 
drawn  account  from  a  lady,  who  ailed  so  little  that 
she  was  going  that  evening  to  the  opera,  he  had  made 
his  escape,  when  he  was  urged  to  step  upstairs  again 
that  the  lady  might  ask  him  whether,  on  her  return 
from  the  opera,  she  might  eat  some  oysters.  '  Yes, 
madam,1  said  Baillie  ;  '  shells  and  all  I1 

Dr.  Richard  Mead  (b.  1673,  d.  1754)  was  physician 


190  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

to  George  II.,  and  the  friend  of  Drs.  Radcliffe, 
Garth,  and  Arbuthnot,  and  a  great  patron  of  literary 
and  artistic  genius.  In  his  house  in  Great  Ormond 
Street  he  established  what  may  be  called  the  first 
academy  of  painting  in  London.  His  large  collection 
of  paintings  and  antiquities,  as  well  as  his  valuable 
library,  was  sold  by  auction  on  his  death  in  1754.  In 
1740  he  had  a  quarrel  with  Dr.  Woodward,  like  himself 
a  Gresham  professor ;  the  two  men  drew  their  swords, 
and  Mead  having  obtained  the  advantage,  he  com- 
manded Woodward  to  beg  his  life.  '  No,  doctor,''  said 
the  vanquished  combatant,  'that  I  will  not  till  I  am 
your  patient.-1  But,  nevertheless,  at  last  he  wisely 
submitted.  In  Ward's  '  Lives  of  the  Gresham  Pro- 
fessors 1  is  a  view  of  Gresham  College,  with  a  gateway, 
entering  from  Broad  Street,  marked  25.  Within  are 
the  figures  of  two  persons,  the  one  standing,  the  other 
kneeling ;  they  represent  Dr.  Mead  and  Dr.  Woodward. 
Dr.  Mead  was  of  a  generous  nature.  In  1723,  when 
the  celebrated  Dr.  Friend  was  sent  to  the  Tower,  Mead 
kindly  took  his  practice,  and,  on  his  release  by  Sir 
Robert  Walpole,  presented  the  escaped  Jacobite  with 
the  result,  <£5,000. 

Dr.  Mead,  about  1714,  lived  at  Chelsea ;  about  the 
same  date  there  lived  in  the  same  locality  Dr.  Alex- 
ander Black  well,  whom  we  introduce  here  chiefly  on 
account  of  his  singularly  unfortunate  life  and  very 
tragical  end.  Blackwell  was  a  native  of  Aberdeen, 
studied  physic  under  Boerhaave  at  Leyden,  and  took 
the  degree  of  M.D.  On  his  return  home  he  married, 
and  for  some  time  practised  as  a  physician  in  London. 
But  not  meeting  with  success,  he  became  corrector  of 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  191 

the  press  for  Mr.  Wilkins,  a  printer,  and  some  time 
after  commenced  business  in  the  Strand  on  his  own 
account,  and  promised  to  do  well,  when,  under  an 
antiquated  and  unjustly  restrictive  law,  a  suit  was 
brought  against  him  for  setting  up  as  a  printer  without 
his  having  served  his  apprenticeship  to  it.  Mr.  Black- 
well  defended  the  suit,  but  at  the  trial  in  Westminster 
Hall  a  dunderhead ed  jury,  probably  of  narrow-minded 
tradesmen,  all  anxious  to  uphold  their  objectionable 
privileges,  found  a  verdict  against  him,  in  consequence 
of  which  he  became  bankrupt,  and  one  of  his  creditors 
kept  him  in  prison  for  nearly  two  years.  By  the  help 
of  his  wife,  who  was  a  clever  painter  and  engraver,  he 
was  released.  She  prepared  all  the  plates  for  the 
'  Herbal,1  a  work  figuring  most  of  the  plants  in  the 
Physic  Garden  at  Chelsea,  close  to  which  she  lived.  A 
copy  of  this  book  eventually  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Swedish  Ambassador,  who  sent  it  over  to  his  Court, 
where  it  was  so  much  liked  that  Dr.  Blackwell  was 
engaged  in  the  Swedish  service,  and  went  to  reside  at 
Stockholm.  He  was  appointed  physician  to  the  King, 
who  under  his  treatment  had  recovered  from  a  serious 
illness.  Dr.  Blackwell  had  left  his  wife  in  England ; 
she  was  to  follow  him  as  soon  as  his  position  was  placed 
on  a  solid  basis.  But  ere  this  could  take  place  he  was 
accused  of  having  been  engaged  with  natives  and 
foreigners  in  plotting  to  overturn  the  constitution  of 
the  kingdom.  He  was  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to 
be  broken  alive  on  the  wheel,  his  heart  and  bowels  to 
be  torn  out  and  burnt,  and  his  body  to  be  quartered. 
He  was  said,  under  torture,  to  have  made  confession  of 
such  an  attempt,  but  the  real  extent  of  his  guilt  must 


192  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

always  remain  problematical.  That  he,  a  person  of  no 
influence,  and  unconnected  with  any  person  of  rank, 
should  have  aimed  at  overthrowing  the  constitution 
seems  very  improbable.  It  is  more  likely  that  he  was 
made  a  scapegoat  to  strike  terror  into  the  party  then 
opposed  to  the  Ministry.  The  awful  sentence  passed  on 
him,  however,  was  commuted  to  beheading,  which  fate  he 
underwent  on  July  29, 1747.  He  must  have  been  a  man 
of  great  nerve  and  a  humorist,  for,  having  laid  his  head 
wrong,  he  remarked  jocosely  that  this  being  his  first  ex- 
periment, no  wonder  he  should  want  a  little  instruction  ! 

The  Dr.  Woodward  we  mentioned  above  seems  to 
have  been  a  very  irascible  and  objectionable  individual. 
He  so  grossly  insulted  Sir  Hans  Sloane,  when  he  was 
reading  a  paper  of  his  own  before  the  Royal  Society  in 
1710,  that,  under  the  presidency  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
he  was  expelled  from  the  Society. 

Among  medical  oddities  of  the  rougher  sort  we  may 
reckon  Mounsey,  a  friend  of  Garrick,  and  physician  to 
Chelsea  Hospital.  His  way  of  extracting  teeth  was 
original.  Round  the  tooth  to  be  drawn  he  fastened  a 
strong  piece  of  catgut,  to  the  opposite  end  of  which  he 
fastened  a  bullet,  with  which  and  a  strong  dose  of 
powder  he  charged  a  pistol.  On  the  trigger  being 
pulled,  the  tooth  was  drawn  out.  Of  course,  it  was  but 
seldom  he  could  prevail  on  anyone  to  try  the  process. 
Once,  having  induced  a  gentleman  to  submit  to  the 
operation,  the  latter  at  the  last  moment  exclaimed : 
'  Stop  !  stop !  Fve  changed  my  mind."'  '  But  I  have 
not,  and  you  are  a  fool  and  a  coward  for  your  pains,1 
answered  the  doctor,  pulling  the  trigger,  and  in  another 
instant  the  tooth  was  extracted. 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  193 

Once,  before  setting  out  on  a  journey,  being  incredu- 
lous as  to  the  safety  of  cash-boxes  and  safes,  he  hid  a 
considerable  quantity  of  gold  and  notes  in  the  fireplace 
of  his  study,  covering  them  with  cinders  and  shavings. 
A  month  after,  returning  luckily  sooner  than  he  was 
expected,  he  found  his  housemaid  preparing  to  enter- 
tain a  few  friends  at  tea  in  her  master's  room.  She  was 
on  the  point  of  lighting  the  fire,  and  had  just  applied 
a  candle  to  the  doctor's  notes,  when  he  entered  the 
room,  seized  a  pail  of  water  which  happened  to  be 
standing  near,  and  throwing  its  contents  over  the  fuel 
and  the  servant,  extinguished  the  fire  and  her  presence 
of  mind  at  the  same  time.  Some  of  the  notes  were 
injured,  and  the  Bank  of  England  made  some  difficulty 
about  cashing  them. 

'  When  doctors  disagree,1  etc.  Do  they  ever  agree  ? 
Yes,  when,  after  a  consultation  over  a  mild  case  which 
has  no  interest  for  any  of  them,  they  over  wine  and 
biscuits  agree  that  the  treatment  hitherto  pursued  had 
better  be  continued.  To  discuss  it  further  would  inter- 
rupt the  pleasant  chat  over  the  news  of  the  day  !  But 
when  they  meet  over  a  friendly  glass  at  the  coffee-house 
thev  go  at  it  hammer  and  tongs.  Dr.  Buchan,  the 
author  of  '  Domestic  Medicine,1  of  which  80,000  copies 
were  sold  during  the  author's  lifetime,  and  which, 
according  to  modern  medical  opinion,  killed  more 
patients  than  that — doctors  like  cheap  medicine  as 
little  as  lawyers  like  cheap  law — Dr.  Gower,  the  urbane 
and  skilled  physician  of  Middlesex  Hospital,  and 
Dr.  Fordyce,  a  fashionable  physician,  whose  deep 
potations  never  affected  him,  used  to  meet  at  the 
Chapter  Coffee-House,  and  hold  discussions  on  medical 

13 


194  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

topics ;  but  they  never  agreed,  and  with  boisterous 
laughter  used  to  ridicule  each  other's  theories.  But 
they  all  agreed  in  considering  the  Chapter  punch  as  a 
safe  remedy  for  all  ills. 

Dr.  Garth,  the  author  of  the  '  Dispensary,1  a  poem 
directed  against  the  Apothecaries  and  Anti  -  Dis- 
pensarians,  a  section  of  the  College  of  Physicians,  was 
very  good-natured,  but  too  fond  of  good  living.  One 
night,  when  he  lingered  over  the  bottle  at  the  Kit-Kat 
Club,  though  patients  were  longing  for  him,  Steele 
reproved  him  for  his  neglect  of  them.  '  Well,  it's  no 
great  matter  at  all,1  replied  Garth,  pulling  out  a  list  of 
fifteen,  '  for  nine  of  them  have  such  bad  constitutions 
that  not  all  the  physicians  in  the  world  can  save  them, 
and  the  other  six  have  such  good  constitutions  that  all 
the  physicians  in  the  world  cannot  kill  them.1  The 
doctor  here  plainly  admitted  the  uselessness  of  his  sup- 
posed science,  as  in  his  '  Dispensary  1  he  admitted  drugs 
to  be  not  only  useless,  but  murderous. 

'  High  where  the  Fleet  Ditch  descends  in  sable  streams, 
To  wash  the  sooty  Naiads  in  the  Thames, 
There  stands  a  structure*  on  a  rising  hill, 
Where  Tyros  take  their  freedom  out  to  kill.' 

In  Blenheim  Street  lived  Joshua  Brookes,  the  famous 
anatomist,  whose  lectures  were  attended  by  upwards  of 

*  Apothecaries'  Hall.  A  doctor,  I  forget  his  name,  having 
obtained  some  mark  of  distinction  from  the  Company  of 
Apothecaries,  mentioned  at  a  party  that  the  glorious  Company 
of  Apothecaries  had  conferred  much  honour  on  him.  '  But,' 
said  a  lady,  '  what  about  the  noble  army  of  martyrs  of 
patients  ?' 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  195 

seven  thousand  pupils.  His  museum  was  almost  a 
rival  of  that  of  John  Hunter,  and  was  liberally  thrown 
open  to  visitors.  One  evening  a  coach  drew  up  at  his 
door,  a  heavy  sack  was  taken  out  and  deposited  in  the 
hall,  and  the  servants,  accustomed  to  such  occurrences, 
since  their  master  was  in  the  habit  of  buying  subjects, 
were  about  to  carry  it  down  the  back-stairs  into  the 
dissecting-room,  when  a  living  subject  thrust  his  head 
and  neck  out  of  one  end  and  begged  for  his  life.  The 
servants  in  alarm  ran  to  fetch  pistols,  but  the  subject 
continued  to  beg  for  mercy  in  such  tones  as  to  assure 
them  they  had  nothing  to  fear  from  him.  He  had 
been  drunk,  and  did  not  know  how  he  got  into  the 
sack.  Dr.  Brookes  ordered  the  sack  to  be  tied  loosely 
round  his  chin,  and  sent  him  in  a  coach  to  the  watch- 
house.  How  he  got  into  the  sack  may  easily  be  sur- 
mised :  Some  body-snatchers,  a  tribe  then  very  much  to 
the  fore,  had  no  doubt  found  the  man  dead  drunk  in 
the  street,  and  knowing  the  doctor  to  be  a  buyer  of 
subjects,  had  taken  him  there,  in  the  hope  that  the 
doctor  might  begin  operating  on  the  body  before  it 
recovered  consciousness,  so  as  to  enable  them  afterwards 
to  claim  the  price.  In  the  days  when  there  were  dozens 
of  executions  in  one  morning  at  Newgate,  the  doctors 
had  a  good  time  of  it,  for  the  bodies  of  the  malefactors 
were  handed  over  to  them  for  dissection.  In  fact, 
under  the  steps  leading  up  to  the  front  -  door  of 
Surgeons'1  Hall,  a  handsome  building  which  stood  next 
to  Newgate  Prison,  there  was  a  small  door,  through 
which  the  corpses  were  introduced  into  the  building. 
Surgeons1  Hall  was  pulled  down  in  1809,  to  make  room 
for  the  new  Sessions  House. 

]3-2 


196  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

The  doctors  of  the  previous  two  centuries  were  mostly 
Sangrados,  who  bled  and  purged  their  patients  most 
unmercifully;  but  we  must  say  this  to  their  credit,  they 
did  not  descend  to  the  sublime  atrocity  of  microbes, 
bacilli,  and  all  the  other  horrors  of  the  microscopic 
mania  now  sending  unnumbered  nervous  people  into 
lunatic  asylums.  And  so  they  had  not,  like  their 
modern  compeers,  the  chance  of  amusing  themselves 
and  paying  one  another  professional  compliments  by 
sending  glass  tubes,  filled  with  the  deadly  spawn,  from 
one  country  to  another  by  ship  and  rail.  Fancy  one  of 
those  tubes  getting  accidentally  broken,  or  being  in- 
tentionally smashed  for  a  lark  on  board  a  passenger 
steamer.  Why,  this  would  speedily  become  a  vessel 
laden  with  corpses !  At  least,  according  to  modern 
teaching,  which,  entre  rious,  we  have  no  more  faith  in 
than  we  have  in  many  other  medical  dicta.  A  man  is 
ill  from  over  gorging  or  drinking,  a  child  ails  from  a 
surfeit  of  sweets  or  from  catching  a  disease  playing  with 
other  children  in  the  streets  or  at  school.  The  doctor 
is  called  in,  and  instead  of  telling  the  man,  '  You  have 
made  a  beast  of  yourself, ,  or  correctly  indicating  the 
cause  of  the  child's  illness,  he  sniffs  about  and  says : 
'  There  is  something  the  matter  with  your  drains  :  I 
can  smell  sewer -gas.*1  And  presently  the  sanitary 
inspector  arrives,  and  orders  the  pulling  up  and  renewal 
of  the  drains,  and  for  days  the  house  is  filled  with  the 
effluvia  supposed  to  be  poisonous.  How  is  it  the  whole 
family  do  not  die  off?  Well,  scavengers  who  daily  deal 
with  offal  and  garbage  of  the  most  offensive  kind,  the 
men  who  work  down  in  the  sewers,  enjoy  robust  health ; 
the  latter  only  suffer  when  they  are  suddenly  plunged 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  197 

into  an  excess  of  sewer-gas,  but  it  is  the  quantity  and 
not  the  quality  that  injures. 

The  excessive  treacliness  of  modern  doctors,  as  we 
have  just  shown,  is  as  objectionable  as  was  the  brim- 
stone treatment  of  some  of  their  predecessors.  A 
principle  with  modern  doctors  is  never  to  acknowledge 
themselves  nonplussed.  The  old  doctors  now  and  then 
confessed  themselves  beaten.  Said  an  iEsculapius  who 
had  been  called  in  to  prescribe  for  a  child,  after 
diagnosing,  as  the  ridiculous  farce  of  tongue-speering 
and  pulse-squeezing  is  called  :  '  This  here  babe  has  got 
a  fever  ;  now,  I  ain't  posted  up  in  fevers,  but  I  will 
send  her  something  that  will  throw  her  into  fits,  and 
I'm  a  stunner  on  fits.1  And  modern  doctors,  indeed, 
have  no  occasion  to  admit  ignorance  since  the  invention 
of  the  liver.  When  they  cannot  tell  what  is  the  matter 
with  a  man,  or  they  are  too  urbane  to  reproach  him 
with  his  excesses,  his  liver  is  out  of  order — and  that  is 
an  organ  which  cannot  possibly  be  examined  and  its 
condition  be  verified  so  as  to  prove  or  disprove  the 
practitioner's  assertion.  I  assume  that  nine  out  of  ten 
people  don't  know  where  or  what  the  liver  is — I'm  sure 
I  don't,  and  don't  want  to ;  but  as  Sancho  Panza 
blessed  the  man  who  invented  sleep,  the  doctors  should 
bless  their  colleague  who  invented  the  liver !  Abernethy, 
of  whom  more  hereafter,  with  all  his  eccentricity,  was 
honest  enough  to  confess  that  he  never  cured  or  pre- 
tended to  cure  anyone,  which  only  quacks  did.  He 
despised  the  humbug  of  the  profession,  and  its  arts  to 
mislead  and  deceive  patients.  He  only  attempted  to 
second  Nature  in  her  efforts.  He  admitted  that  he 
could  not  remove  rheumatism,  that  opprobrium  of  the 


198  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

faculty,  and  no  doctor  can ;  a  residence  in  a  warm  and 

ever  sunny  clime,  or  a  long  course  of  Turkish  baths, 

can    do    it.      Hence    sings    Allan    Ramsay's    '  Gentle 

Shepherd 1 : 

'  I  sits  with  my  feet  in  a  brook, 
And  if  they  ax  me  for  why, 
In  spite  of  the  physic  I  took, 
It's  rheumatiz  kills  me,  says  I.'* 

This  was  the  desperate  remedy  taken  by  Caroline, 
Queen  of  that  brute  George  II.,  when  he  expected  her 
to  take  her  usual  walk  with  him,  though  both  her  feet 
were  swollen  with  rheumatism.  She  plunged  them  in 
a  bath  of  cold  water,  and  managed  to  go  out  with  him 
that  afternoon. 

I  read  in  some  publication — London  Society,  I  think — 
in  an  article  on  medicine,  that  it  is  a  sensible  plan, 
adopted  by  some  wise  people,  to  pay  a  medical  man  a 
yearly  sum  to  look  up  a  household  periodically  and 
keep  them  in  good  health.  This  seems  to  me  as  insane 
a  plan  as  can  well  be  imagined.  Fancy  the  physicking 
such  a  family,  especially  the  children  and  servants, 
must  all  the  year  round  undergo !  For  the  doctor  does 
not  like  to  take  his  money  and  do  nothing  for  it ;  so, 
if  there  happens  to  be  no  real  illness,  he  must  exhibit 
his  draughts  and  pills,  just  to  show  that  he  is  honestly 
earning  his  fee.  The  regular  attendant,  the  family 
doctor,  means  that  the  family  are  hospitalizing  all  the 
year  round.  Better  go  and  live  in  the  island  of  Sark. 
Sir  Robert  Inglis,  in  his  account  of  the  Channel  Islands, 

*  In  searching  for  material  for  these  pages  I  had  occasion  to 
read  the  lives  of  a  good  many  doctors  ;  half  of  them,  I  should 
say,  died  of  rheumatism  and  gout. 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  199 

says  that  at  Sark  there  is  no  doctor,  and  that  in  the 
years  1816  and  1820  there  was  not  one  death  on  the 
island,  containing  a  population  of  five  hundred  persons, 
and  that  on  an  average  of  ten  years  the  mortality  is 
not  quite  one  in  a  hundred.  But  let  us  return  to  the 
old  doctors. 

Dr.  George  Fordyce,  who  came  in  1762  from 
Edinburgh  to  London,  very  speedily  made  himself  a 
name  by  a  series  of  public  lectures  on  medical  science, 
which  he  afterwards  published  in  a  volume  entitled 
'  Elements  of  the  Practice  of  Physic,1  which  passed 
through  many  editions.  Unfortunately  he  was  given 
to  drink,  and  though  he  never  was  known  to  be  dead 
drunk,  yet  he  was  often  in  a  state  which  rendered  him 
unfit  for  professional  duties.  One  night  when  he  was 
in  such  a  condition,  he  was  suddenly  sent  for  to  attend 
a  lady  of  title  who  was  very  ill.  He  went,  sat  down, 
listened  to  her  story,  and  felt  her  pulse.  He  found  he 
was  not  up  to  his  work  ;  he  lost  his  wits,  and  in  a 
moment  of  forgetfulness  exclaimed  :  '  Drunk,  by  Jove  !' 
Still,  he  managed  to  write  out  a  mild  prescription. 
Early  next  morning  he  received  a  message  from  his 
noble  patient  to  call  on  her  at  once.  Dr.  Fordyce  felt 
very  uncomfortable.  The  lady  evidently  intended  to 
upbraid  him  either  with  an  improper  prescription  or 
with  his  disgraceful  condition.  But  to  his  surprise  and 
relief  she  thanked  him  for  his  prompt  compliance  with 
her  pressing  summons,  and  then  confessed  that  he  had 
rightly  diagnosed  her  case,  that  unfortunately  she 
occasionally  indulged  too  freely  in  drink,  but  that  she 
hoped  he  would  preserve  inviolable  secrecy  as  to  the 
condition  he  had  found  her  in.     Fordyce  listened  to 


200  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

her  as  grave  as  a  judge,  and  said :  '  You  may  depend 
upon  me,  madam  ;  I  shall  be  as  silent  as  the  grave.1 

Another  doctor  who  made  his  reputation  by  lecturing 
was  Dr.  G.  Wallis,  of  Red  Lion  Square.  He  had 
originally  established  himself  at  York,  where  he  was 
born,  but  being  much  attached  to  theatrical  amuse- 
ments, and  a  man  of  wit,  he  had  written  a  dramatic 
piece,  entitled  '  The  Mercantile  Lovers  :  a  Satire.'  It 
contained  a  number  of  highly  caustic  remarks,  either  so 
directly  levelled  at  certain  persons  of  that  city,  or  taken 
by  them  to  themselves,  that  he  lost  all  professional 
practice,  and  had  to  leave  York,  when  he  came  to 
London,  and,  as  already  mentioned,  commenced  lectures 
on  the  Theory  and  Practice  of  Physic.  He  published 
various  medical  works,  and  died  in  1802. 

In  the  reign  of  James  I.  lived  Dr.  Edward  Jorden, 
whom  we  mention  on  account  of  two  curious  circum- 
stances in  his  life.  The  doctor,  being  on  a  journey, 
benighted  on  Salisbury  Plain,  and  not  knowing  which 
way  to  ride,  met  a  shepherd  of  whom  he  made  inquiry 
what  places  were  near  where  he  could  pass  the  night. 
He  was  told  there  was  no  house  of  entertainment  for 
travellers  near,  but  that  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of 
Jordan,  and  a  man  of  great  estate,  lived  close  by. 
Looking  on  the  similarity  of  the  names  as  a  good 
omen,  Jorden  applied  at  the  house,  where  he  was 
kindly  received,  and  made  so  good  an  impression  on  his 
host  that  the  latter  bestowed  on  him  his  daughter  with 
a  considerable  fortune. 

The  second  circumstance  was  this  :  James,  as  is  well 
known,  was  a  firm  believer  in  witchcraft.  Now,  it 
happened  that  a  girl  in  the  country  was  said  to  have 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  201 

been  bewitched  by  a  neighbour.  The  King  had  her 
sent  for,  and  placed  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Jorden,  who 
very  soon  discovered  the  girl  to  be  a  cheat ;  in  fact, 
she  confessed  as  much,  saying  that  her  father,  having 
had  a  quarrel  with  a  female  neighbour,  had  induced 
her  (his  daughter)  to  accuse  the  woman  of  having 
bewitched  her  and  brought  upon  her  the  fits  she 
simulated.  This  confession  Jorden  reported  to  the 
King,  the  doctor  not  being  courtier  enough  to  see  what 
James  wanted,  namely,  a  witch  to  burn.  But  as  the 
girl  had  for  a  short  time  given  him  the  prospect  of 
such  a  treat,  the  King,  though  she  by  her  own  con- 
fession was  a  diabolical  liar — for  everyone  in  those  days 
knew  that  the  charge  of  witchcraft  involved  the  risk  of 
losing  life  by  a  fiery  death — James  actually  gave  her  a 
portion,  and  she  was  married,  '  and,1  as  the  account 
naively  observes,  'thus  was  cured  of  her  inimical 
witchery.1 

Of  Dr.  Francis  J.  P.  de  Valangin  (b.  1719,  d.  1805), 
of  the  College  of  Physicians,  London,  though  a  native 
of  Switzerland,  it  was  said  that  to  his  patients  he 
was  kind  and  consolatory  in  the  extreme — nothing 
of  the  rough  element  in  him ;  he  was,  as  the  obituary 
notice  of  him  says,  the  friend  of  mankind  and  an  honour 
to  his  profession.  About  the  year  1772  de  Valangin 
purchased  ground  in  Pentonville,  near  "White  Conduit 
House,  where  he  erected  a  residence  on  a  plan  laid 
down  by  himself;  and  as  the  design  was  not  that  of 
ordinary  builders  or  architects  it  was  called  fanciful, 
chiefly  because  of  a  high  brick  tower  rising  from  it, 
which  the  doctor  built  for  an  observatory.  Of  course 
the  next  tenant,  a  timber  merchant,  had  nothing  more 


202  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

pressing  to  do  than  immediately  to  pull  down  the 
features  which  distinguished  the  building  from  the 
dulness  of  orthodox  architecture.  Valangin  had  chris- 
tened the  elevation  on  which  his  house  stood  '  Hermes 
Hill,1  after  Hermes  Trismegistus,  the  fabled  discoverer 
of  the  chemist's  art. 

Dr.  Anthony  Askew,  one  of  the  celebrities  of  St. 
Bartholomew's  in  the  last  half  of  the  last  century,  was 
as  famous  in  literature  as  he  was  in  medicine.  He  had 
a  collection  of  Greek  MSS.,  purchased  at  great  expense 
in  the  East,  more  numerous  and  more  valuable  than 
that  of  any  other  private  gentleman  in  England.  His 
house  in  Queen  Square  was,  moreover,  crammed  with 
printed  books ;  the  sale  of  his  library  in  1775,  which 
lasted  twenty  days,  was  the  great  literary  auction  of 
the  time. 

Another  famous  physician  of  St.  Bartholomew's  was 
Dr.  David  Pitcairn,  who  died  in  1809.  He  also  was 
distinguished  as  a  literary  man  and  lover  of  art.  His 
earnings  were  very  large,  for  he  was  frequently  requested 
by  his  brethren  for  his  advice  in  difficult  cases.  His 
manners  as  a  physician  were  simple,  gentle,  and  dignified, 
and  always  sufficiently  cheerful  to  inspire  confidence  and 
hope.  It  is  said  that  he  was  occasionally  affected  in 
his  speech ;  thus  he  is  reported  to  have  asked  a  lady 
for  a  pinch  of  snuff  in  the  following  terms :  '  Madam, 
permit  me  to  immerse  the  summits  of  my  digits  in  your 
pulveriferous  utensil,  to  excite  a  grateful  titillation  of 
my  olfactory  nerves.'' 

Of  Dr.  John  lladcliffe,  the  physician  of  the  reigns  of 
William  III.  and  Queen  Anne,  many  strange  anecdotes 
are  told,  for  he  was  a  man  of  rough  Abemethy  manners, 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  203 

even  with  kings.  When  called  in  to  see  King  William 
at  Kensington,  finding  his  legs  dropsically  swollen,  he 
said:  'I  would  not  have  your  two  legs,  your  Majesty, 
not  for  your  three  kingdoms.''  The  remark  gave  great 
offence.  But  on  another  occasion  he  was  even  more 
brusque.  'Your  juices,'1  he  said  to  the  King,  'are  all 
vitiated,  your  whole  mass  of  blood  corrupted,  and  the 
nutriment  mostly  turned  to  water.  If  your  Majesty 
will  forbear  making  long  visits  to  the  Earl  of  Bradford , 
(where  the  King  was  wont  to  drink  very  hard),  '  I'll 
engage  to  make  you  live  three  or  four  years  longer,  but 
beyond  that  time  no  physic  can  protract  your  Majesty's 
existence.''  On  one  occasion,  when  he  was  sent  for  from 
the  tavern,  to  which  he  resorted  but  too  often,  by 
Queen  Anne,  he  flatly  refused  to  leave  his  bottle. 
'Tell  her  Majesty,'  he  bellowed,  '  that  it's  nothing  but 
the  vapours.1  He  advised  a  hypochondriacal  lady,  who 
complained  of  nervous  singing  in  the  head,  to  '  curl  her 
hair  with  a  ballad.1  He  cured  a  gentleman  of  a  quinsy 
by  making  his  own  two  servants  eat  a  hasty-pudding 
for  a  wager,  which  caused  the  patient  to  break  out 
into  such  a  fit  of  laughter  as  to  burst  the  quinsy.  Sir 
Godfrey  Kneller  and  Radcliffe  were  at  one  time  neigh- 
bours in  Bow  Street,  Covent  Garden,  and  the  painter 
having  beautiful  pleasure-grounds,  a  door  was  opened 
for  the  accommodation  of  his  neighbour.  But  in  con- 
quence  of  damage  done  to  his  flower-beds,  Sir  Godfrey 
threatened  to  close  the  door,  to  which  Radcliffe  replied, 
he  might  do  anything  with  it  but  paint  it.  'Did 
Dr.  Radcliffe  say  so  P1  cried  Sir  Godfrey.  '  Go  and  tell 
him,  with  my  compliments,  that  I  can  take  anything 
from  him  but  his  physic.1     In  spite  of  his  cynicism  and 


204  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

rudeness,  he  made  a  very  large  income,  on  the  average 
twenty  guineas  a  day,  and  when  he  was  told  that  the 
^5,000  he  had  invested  in  South  Sea  stock  was  lost,  he 
could  with  placid  sangfroid  say :  '  Well,  it  is  only 
going  up  another  5,000  stairs.'  But  though  he  so 
heavily  taxed  his  patients,  he  was  very  much  opposed 
to  paying  his  debts,  especially  such  as  he  owed  to 
tradespeople.  A  pavior,  whom  he  had  employed  and 
constantly  put  off  paying,  at  last  waited  for  him  at  his 
(the  doctor's)  door,  and,  when  his  carriage  drove  up, 
roughly  asked  for  his  money.  '  Why,  you  rascal,'  said 
the  doctor,  '  do  you  expect  to  get  paid  for  such  a  bad 
piece  of  work  ?  You  have  spoiled  my  pavement, 
and  covered  it  with  earth  to  hide  your  bad  work !' 
'  Doctor,'  replied  the  pavior,  '  mine  is  not  the  only 
bad  work  the  earth  hides.'  '  You  dog,  you !'  cried  the 
doctor,  'you  must  be  a  wit,  and  want  the  money. 
Come  in.'  And  he  paid  him.  Curiously  enough,  the 
man  who  left  the  splendid  library,  known  by  his  name, 
to  Oxford,  at  one  time,  on  being  asked  where  his  library 
was,  pointed  to  a  few  phials,  a  skeleton,  and  a  herbal, 
in  one  corner  of  his  apartment,  and  said,  '  Sir,  there  is 
my  library  !'  He  was  a  Tory  in  politics,  and  it  was 
said  that  he  kept  Lady  Holt  alive  out  of  pure  political 
animosity  to  the  Whig  Chief  Justice  Holt,  because  she 
led  her  lord  such  a  life. 

Of  a  more  genial  disposition,  though  no  less  original 
character,  was  Dr.  John  Cookley  Lettsom.  He  was 
born  in  a  small  island  near  Tortola,  called  Little  Van 
Dyke,  which  belonged  to  his  father.  A  view  of  it  may 
be  seen  in  the  Gentlemaii's  Magazine,  December  Supple- 
ment, 1815.     When  only  six  years  of  age  he  was  sent 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  205 

to  England  for  his  education,  being  entrusted  to  the 
care  of  a  Mr.  Fothergill,  then  a  famous  preacher  among 
the  Quakers.  His  father  dying  before  he  came  of  age, 
that  gentleman  became  his  guardian,  and  with  a  view 
to  his  future  profession  sent  him  to  Dr.  Sutcliffe.  For 
two  years  he  attended  St.  Thomas's  Hospital,  and  then 
returned  to  his  native  place  in  the  West  Indies  to  take 
possession  of  any  property  that  might  remain ;  but  on 
his  arrival  he  found  himself  cfSOO  worse  than  nothing, 
his  elder  brother,  then  dead,  having  run  through  an 
ample  fortune,  leaving  to  his  younger  brother  only  a 
number  of  negro  slaves,  whom  he  at  once  emancipated. 
He  entered  on  the  medical  profession,  and  in  five 
months  made  the  astonishing  sum  of  i?2,000,  with 
which  he  returned  to  Europe,  visited  the  medical 
schools  of  Paris  and  Edinburgh,  took  his  degree  of 
M.D.  at  Leyden  in  1769,  and  was  admitted  a  licentiate 
of  the  College  of  Physicians  of  London  in  the  same 
year.  His  rise  in  his  profession  was  rapid.  In  1783 
he  earned  ^3,600  ;  in  1784,  ,£3,900  ;  in  1785,  ^4,015  ; 
in  1786,  i?4,500  ;  and  in  some  years  his  income  reached 
dP12*000.  But  he  was  at  the  same  time  giving  away 
hundreds — nay  thousands — in  gratuitous  advice,  and 
the  poorer  order  of  the  clergy  and  struggling  literary 
men  received  not  only  gratuitous  advice,  but  substantial 
aid.  He  was  one  of  the  original  projectors  and  sup- 
porters of  the  General  Dispensary,  of  the  Finsbury  and 
Surrey  Dispensaries,  of  the  Margate  Sea  -  Bathing 
Infirmary,  as  well  as  of  many  other  charitable  institu- 
tions. In  1779  he  purchased  some  land  on  the  east 
side  of  Grove  Hill,  Camberwell,  where  he  erected  the 
villa  which  for  years  was  associated  with  his  name,  and 


206  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

where  he  entertained  some  of  the  most  eminent  literati 
of  his  time.  The  house  contained  a  library  of  near 
ten  thousand  volumes,  and  a  museum  full  of  natural 
and  artistic  curiosities.  The  grounds  were  most  taste- 
fully laid  out  and  adorned  with  choice  trees,  shrubs 
and  flowers.  The  avenue  of  elms,  still  retaining  the 
name  of  Camberwell  Grove,  formed  part  of  the  small 
estate  and  the  approach  to  the  house.  It  is  sad  to 
relate  that  Dr.  Lettsom's  excessive  devotion  to  science 
and  literature  impaired  his  resources,  and  compelled 
him  eventually  to  quit  Grove  Hill.  He  died  in  1815, 
aged  seventy-one  years.  He  being  in  the  habit  of  sign- 
ing his  prescriptions  '  J.  Lettsom,1  some  wag,  putting 
forth  the  lines  as  the  doctors  own  composition,  wrote 

thus : 

'  When  patients  comes  to  I, 

I  physics,  Weeds,  and  sweats  'em  ; 
Then,  if  they  choose  to  die, 
What's  that  to  I  ?  I  lets  'em.1 

Everyone  has  heard,  and  has  a  story  to  tell,  of 
Dr.  John  Abernethy  (b.  1764,  d.  1831),  so  we  do  not 
know  whether  in  telling  our  stories  of  him  we  shall  be 
able  to  tell  the  reader  anything  new ;  but  as  he  was 
a  medical  eccentricitv,  we  cannot  omit  him  from  our 
portrait  gallery.  But  let  us  premise  that  if  we  call 
him  eccentric  we  refer  to  his  manners  only,  in  which  he 
did  not  take  after  his  chief  instructor,  Sir  Charles  Blick, 
who  was  a  fashionable  physician  of  the  extra-courteous 
school.  In  scientific  knowledge  Abernethy  greatly 
excelled  all  his  colleagues,  though  he  got  less  fame  by 
that  than  by  his  oddities.  When  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  many  he  wrote  off-hand  to  a  lady  a  note  of 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  207 

proposal,  saying  that  he  was  too  busy  to  attend  in 
person,  but  he  would  give  her  a  fortnight  for  considera- 
tion. His  irritable  temper  at  times  rendered  him  very 
disagreeable  with  patients  and  medical  men  who  con- 
sulted him.  When  the  latter  did  so,  he  would  walk  up 
and  down  the  room  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
whistle  all  the  time,  and  end  by  telling  the  doctor  to  go 
home  and  read  his  (Abernethy's)  book.  On  being  asked 
by  a  colleague  whether  a  certain  plan  he  suggested 
would  answer,  the  only  reply  he  could  obtain  was : 
'  Ay,  ay,  put  a  little  salt  on  a  bird's  tail,  and  you  will 
be  sure  to  catch  him.1  He  could  hardly  be  induced  to 
give  advice  in  cases  which  appeared  to  depend  on  im- 
proper diet.  A  farmer  of  immense  bulk  came  from  a 
distance  to  consult  him,  and  having  given  an  account  of 
his  daily  meals,  which  showed  an  immense  amount  of 
animal  food,  Abernethy  said  :  '  Go  away,  sir ;  I  won't 
attempt  to  prescribe  for  such  a  hog  f  A  loquacious 
lady  he  silenced  by  telling  her  to  put  out  her  tongue ; 
she  having  done  so,  '  Now  keep  it  there  till  /  have  done 
talking,1  said  Abernethy.  A  lady  having  brought  her 
daughter,  he  refused  to  prescribe  for  her,  but  told  the 
mother  to  let  the  girl  take  exercise.  Having  received 
his  guinea,  he  gave  the  shilling  to  the  mother  and 
said  :  '  Buy  the  girl  a  skipping-rope  as  you  go  along.1 
When  the  late  Duke  of  York  consulted  him,  he  stood 
whistling  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  the  Duke 
said :  '  I  suppose  you  know  who  I  am  P1  '  Suppose  I 
do,1  was  the  uncourtly  reply,  '  what  of  that  P1  To  a 
gentleman  who  consulted  him  for  an  ulcerated  throat, 
and  wanted  him  to  look  at  it,  he  said  :  *  How  dare  you 
suppose  that  I  would  allow  you  to  blow  your  stinking, 


208  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

foul  breath  in  my  face  I1  But  sometimes  he  met  a 
Tartar.  A  gentleman  who  could  not  succeed  in  getting 
the  doctor  to  listen  to  his  case,  suddenly  locked  the 
door,  put  the  key  into  his  pocket,  and  took  out  a 
loaded  pistol.  Abernethy,  alarmed,  asked  if  he  meant 
to  murder  him.  No,  he  only  wanted  him  to  listen  to 
his  case,  and  meant  to  keep  him  a  prisoner  till  he  did. 
The  patient  and  the  surgeon  afterwards  became  great 
friends.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  having  insisted  on 
seeing  him  out  of  his  usual  hours,  and  abruptly  entering 
his  room,  was  asked  by  the  doctor  how  he  got  in.  '  By 
that  door,1  was  the  reply.  '  Then,'  said  Abernethy,  '  I 
recommend  you  to  make  your  exit  by  the  same  way.1 
He  refused  to  attend  George  IV.  until  he  had  delivered 
his  lecture  at  the  hospital,  in  consequence  of  which  he 
lost  a  royal  appointment.  To  a  lady  who  complained 
that  on  holding  her  arm  over  her  head  she  felt  pain,  he 
said  :  '  Then  what  a  fool  you  must  be  to  hold  it  up  V 
He  was  fond  of  calling  people  fools.  A  countess  con- 
sulted him,  and  he  offered  her  some  pills,  when  she  said 
she  could  never  take  a  pill.  '  Not  take  a  pill !  What 
a  fool  you  must  be  P  was  the  courteous  reply. 

Abernethy  usually  cut  patients  short  by  saying :  '  I 
have  heard  enough.  You  have  heard  of  my  book  P1 
'  Yes.1  *  Then  go  home  and  read  it.1  This  book  gives 
admirable  rules  for  dieting  and  general  living,  though 
few  persons  would  be  willing  to  comply  with  them 
rigidly  ;  he  himself  did  not.  When  someone  told  him 
that  he  seemed  to  live  like  most  other  people,  he 
replied  :  '  Yes,  but  then  I  have  such  a  devil  of  an 
appetite  I1  One  day  a  lawyer  suffering  from  dyspepsia, 
brought  on  by  want  of  exercise  and  good  living,  went 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  209 

to  consult  Abernethy.  As  he  came  out  of  the  consult- 
ing-room he  met  another  lawyer,  a  friend  of  his. 
'  What  the  devil  brought  you  here  P1  said  one,  and  the 
other  echoed  the  question,  and  the  reply  of  each  was 
the  same.  '  What  has  he  prescribed  for  you  T  asked 
the  newcomer.  The  prescription  was  produced  and 
read  as  follows  :  '  Read  my  book,  p.  72.  J.  Abernethy.'' 
The  first  lawyer  agreed  to  wait  for  his  friend  whilst  he 
went  to  consult  the  doctor.  In  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  he  came  out,  well  pleased  apparently  with  his 
interview.  '  Well,  what  is  your  prescription  V  inquired 
lawyer  number  one.  Number  two  produced  a  slip  of 
paper,  on  which  was  written  :  '  Read  my  book,  p.  72. 
J.  Abernethy.1  That  was  what  each  got  for  his  guinea. 
But  Abernethy  deserves  praise  for  three  utterances,  viz., 
that  mind  is  a  miraculous  energy  added  to  matter,  and 
not  the  result  of  certain  modes  of  organization,  as 
modern  scientists  maintain  ;  that  an  operation  is  a  re- 
proach to  surgery,  and  that  a  patient  should  be  cured 
without  recourse  to  it ;  and  that  vivisection  experi- 
ments are  morally  wrong  and  physiologically  unsafe, 
because  unreliable. 

That  Dr.  Abernethy,  with  his  uncouth  manners  and 
vulgar  repartee,  should  have  been  so  successful  in  his 
profession  is  a  marvel ;  certainly  few  people  of  the 
present  day  would  tolerate  such  rudeness  as  his. 
Possibly  in  former  days  the  doctor's  distinctive  dress 
had  a  secret  influence  of  its  own.  The  gold-headed 
cane,  the  elaborate  shirt-frill,  the  massive  snuff-box, 
tapped  so  argumentatively  in  consultation,  the  pompous 
manner  and  overbearing  assurance,  no  doubt  exercised 
a  spell  with  which  we  are  unacquainted  now. 

14 


210  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Abernethy  had  imitators,  but  they  had  been  pupils 
of  his.  Tommy  Wormald,  or  '  Old  Tommy,'  as  the 
students  called  him,  was  Abernethy  over  again  in  voice, 
style,  appearance  and  humour.  To  an  insurance 
company  he  reported  on  a  bad  life  proposed  to  them  : 
'  Done  for.1  When  an  apothecary  wanted  to  put  him 
off  with  a  single  guinea  at  a  consultation  on  a  rich 
man's  case,  he  said  :  '  A  guinea  is  a  lean  fee,  and  the 
patient  is  a  fat  patient.  I  always  have  fat  fees  from  fat 
patients.  Pay  me  two  guineas  instantly ;  our  patient 
is  a  fat  patient.'  Some  rich  but  mean  people  would 
drive  to  St.  Bartholomew's  to  get  advice  gratis  as  out- 
patients. To  this  Tommy  meant  to  put  a  stop. 
Seeing  a  lady  dressed  in  silk,  he  thus  addressed  her 
before  a  roomful  of  people  :  '  Madam,  this  charity  is 
for  the  poor,  destitute  invalids  ;  I  refuse  to  pay  atten- 
tion to  destitute  invalids  who  wear  rich  silk  dresses.' 
The  lady  quickly  disappeared.  Will  no  Old  Tommy 
arise  at  the  present  day  and  put  an  end  to  the  abuse, 
which  is  as  rampant  as  ever? 

Doctors  are  not  agreed  as  to  what  constitutes  medical 
science.  By  an  empiric  a  quack  is  meant.  Now,  an 
empiric  goes  by  observation  only,  without  rational 
grounds ;  yet  Sir  Charles  Bell  asserted  that  physiology 
was  a  science  of  observation  rather  than  of  experiment, 
which  is  the  rational  ground  the  quack  is  said  to  dis- 
regard. Who  is  right  ?  Without  attempting  to 
answer  the  question,  which  would  lead  us  too  far,  we 
must  rest  satisfied  with  the  fact  that  the  profession  and 
the  public  have  agreed  to  stigmatize  certain  individuals 
as  quacks  who,  with  or  without  any  medical  training, 
pretend  to  cure  diseases  by  charms,  manipulations,  or 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  211 

nostrums,  which  have  no  scientific  or  rational  basis. 
Quacks  have  existed  at  all  times,  for  mankind,  especially 
suffering  mankind,  has  ever  been  credulous.  Henry  VIII. 
endeavoured  to  put  down  those  of  his  own  times  by 
establishing  censors  in  physic,  but  the  public  would  not 
be  enlightened,  and  so  the  quacks  flourished.  In  1387 
one  Roger  Clerk,  of  Wandsworth,  pretending  to  be  a 
physician,  got  twelve  pence  in  part  payment  from  one 
Roger  atte  Haccke,  in  Ironmonger  Lane,  for  under- 
taking the  cure  of  his  wife,  who  was  ill.  He  put  a 
charm,  consisting  of  a  piece  of  parchment,  round  her 
neck,  but  it  did  her  no  good,  whereupon  Roger  brought 
him  before  the  chamber  at  Guildhall  for  his  deceit  and 
falsehood,  and  Roger  Clerk  was  sentenced  to  be  led 
through  the  middle  of  the  city  with  trumpets  and 
pipes,  he  riding  on  a  horse  without  a  saddle,  the  said 
parchment  and  a  whetstone*  for  his  lies  being  hung 
about  his  neck,  a  urinal  also  being  hung  before  him, 
and  another  on  his  back.  In  the  reign  of  Edward  VI. 
one  Grig,  a  poulterer  in  Surrey,  was  set  in  the  pillory 
at  Croydon,  and  again  in  the  Borough,  for  cheating 
people  out  of  their  money  by  pretending  to  cure  them 
by  charms  or  by  only  looking  at  the  patient. 

Was  Valentine  Greatrakes,  whom  Charles  II.  invited 
to  his  Court,  a  quack  ?  If  he  was,  he  was  a  harmless 
one,  since  he  gave  no  physic,  but  only  pretended  to 
cure  by  magnetic  stroking.     Our  modern  magnetizers 

*  Early  in  English  history  we  find  the  whetstone  as  the 
symbol  of  a  liar.  Why  ?  Does  lying  imply  a  sharpened  wit, 
as  a  whetstone  sharpens  a  blade  ?  The  custom  is  referred  to  in 
'  Hudibras,'  II.,  i.  57-60. 

14—2 


212  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

are  not  so  modest ;  they  have  added  much  hocus-pocus 
to  Valentine's  simple  process. 

From  among  the  medical  oddities  of  the  latter  part 
of  the  last  century  we  must  not  omit  Dr.  Von  Butchell, 
who  lived  in  Mount  Street,  and  pretended  to  cure 
every  disease.  He  applied  for  the  post  of  dentist  to 
George  III.,  but  when  the  King's  consent  was  obtained 
he  said  he  did  not  care  for  the  custom  of  royalty. 
When  his  wife  died,  he  had  her  embalmed  and  kept  in 
his  parlour,  where  he  allowed  his  patients  to  see  the 
body  ;  so  that  the  modern  showman  who  exhibited  the 
dead  body  of  his  wife  at  Olympia  was,  after  all,  only  a 
copyist.  But  whilst  the  doctor  was  half-mad,  the  world 
was  altogether  mad  ;  for  his  exhibiting  the  corpse  of 
his  wife  was  not  considered  as  eccentric  as  his  letting 
his  beard  grow,  which  then  was  held  to  be  the  height  of 
madness.  And  there  seems  to  have  been  method  in  his 
madness,  for  he  sold  the  hairs  out  of  his  beard  at  a 
guinea  each  to  ladies  who  wished  to  have  fine  children. 
He  used  to  ride  about  the  West  End  on  a  pony  painted 
with  spots  by  the  doctor  himself.  There  is  an  en- 
graving extant  of  him,  showing  him  astride  on  it.  The 
horse  was  afterwards,  in  consequence  of  a  dispute  with 
the  stable-keeper  who  had  charge  of  it,  sold  at  Tatter- 
sail's,  where,  as  a  curiosity,  it  fetched  a  good  price. 
There  was  a  wonderful  inscription  on  the  outside  of  his 
house,  extending  over  the  front  of  the  next,  and  his 
neighbour  rebuilding  his  frontage,  half  the  inscription 
was  obliterated.  Butchell  was  also  a  great  advertiser, 
and  his  advertisements  even  now  afford  amusing  reading. 
He  never  would  visit  a  patient,  though  as  much  as 
0C0OO  was  offered  him  for  a  visit — patients  had  to  go  to 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  213 

his  house.  *  I  go  to  none,1  he  said  in  his  advertisements. 
Many  persons  used  to  visit  him,  not  for  getting  advice, 
but  simply  to  converse  with  such  an  original.  He  was 
twice  married.  His  first  wife  he  dressed  in  black,  and 
his  second  in  white,  never  allowing  a  change  of  colour. 
He  was  one  of  the  earliest  teetotalers.  The  profits  he 
and  some  of  his  contemporaries  made  on  their  quack 
draughts  and  pills  led,  in  1783,  to  the  imposition  of 
the  tax  on  '  patent  medicines.1 

But  to  come  down  to  more  recent  times,  in  1700  one 
John  Pechey,  living  at  the  Angel  and  Crown,  in  Basing 
Lane,  an  Oxford  graduate  and  member  of  the  College 
of  Physicians,  London,  advertised  that  all  sick  people 
might  for  sixpence  have  a  faithful  account  of  their 
diseases  and  plain  directions  for  their  cure,  and  that  he 
was  prepared  to  visit  any  sick  person  in  London  for 
2s.  6d.  ;  and  that  if  he  were  called  by  any  person  as  he 
passed  by,  he  would  require  but  one  shilling  for  his 
advice.  A  physician  who  in  our  day  advertised  like 
this  would  be  deprived  of  his  diploma.  In  1734  one 
Joshua  Ward  became  a  celebrity  even  among  quacks  by 
his  pills,  which  he  extensively  advertised,  and  which 
were  patronized  by  the  Queen  herself.  There  was  a 
rhyming  quack,  Dr.  Hill,  who  also  wrote  a  farce,  and 
wanted  Garrick  to  produce  it,  till  the  latter  published 
the  following  distich  on  him  : 

'  For  farces  and  physic  his  equal  there  scarce  is, 
His  farces  are  physic,  his  physic  a  farce  is.' 

A  Dr.  Hannes,  a  contemporary  of  Dr.  RadclifFe, 
ordered  his  servant  to  stop  a  number  of  coaches  between 
Whitehall  and  the  Royal  Exchange,  and  to  inquire  at 


214  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

each  whether  it  belonged  to  Dr.  Hannes,  as  he  was 
called  to  a  patient.  Entering  Garraway's  Coffee-House, 
the  servant  put  the  same  question.  Dr.  Radcliffe 
happening  to  be  there,  he  asked  who  wanted  Dr. 
Hannes.  The  servant  named  several  lords  who  all 
wanted  him.  '  No,  no,  friend,1  said  Radcliffe  ;  '  Dr. 
Hannes  wants  the  lords. , 

Quacks  were  never  more  flourishing  than  they  are 
now,  and  they  always  will  be,  for  the  public  like 
mysterious  remedies,  and  are  anxious  to  recommend 
them  and  to  force  them  on  their  friends.  In  nothing 
is  a  little  knowledge  more  dangerous  than  in  medicine  ; 
mothers  and  nurses  especially,  who  have  acquired  some 
smattering  of  it  from  their  conversations  with  doctors, 
may  do  a  lot  of  mischief.  To  them  are  due  nearly  all 
so-called  diseases  of  children  —  as  if  children  must 
necessarily  have  diseases — a  superstition  which  is  shared 
bv  some  doctors,  who  also  encourage  the  reading  of 
their  books.  The  reading  of  those  books  has  physically 
the  same  effect  on  the  body  that  the  reading  or  hearing 
of  ghost  stories  has  morally  on  the  mind  :  the  reader  or 
hearer  everywhere  feels  dis-ease  and  sees  ghosts  ;  ergo 
beware  of  medical  books  and  goblin  stories — both  are 
unwholesome.  Modern  invalids  are  fortunate  in 
escaping  the  tortures  inflicted  on  patients  in  earlier 
days.  Edmund  Verney  thus  writes  concerning  his 
father,  Sir  Ralph  Verney,  of  Clay  don  House,  in  1686  : 
'  He  hath  been  blooded,  vomited,  blistered,  cupt  and 
scarified,  and  hath  three  physicians  with  him,  besides 
apothecary  and  chirurgian.*1  And  then  he  wonders  that 
'  he  still  continues  very  weak.1  The  marvel  was  that  he 
survived  at  all.     Had  not  Moliere  a  few  years  before 


THE  OLD  DOCTORS  215 

the  above  date  said  :  '  You  must  not  say  that  a  man 
died  of  such  and  such  a  disease,  but  of  so  many 
physicians,  surgeons  and  apothecaries  '  ? 

The  most  pungent  and  most  witty  definition  of  the 
doctor's  character  probably  is  that  given,  I  think,  by 
Talleyrand.  When  Napoleon,  in  a  fit  of  despondency, 
said  that  he  would  forsake  war  and  turn  physician,  the 
sarcastic  courtier  said  sotto  voce  :  '  Toujours  assassin  T 


XV. 
THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON. 

LONDON  is  deficient  in  two  conditions  to  render  it 
picturesque :  it  lacks  diversity  of  surface,  and  it 
lacks  water.  In  so  vast  an  expanse  of  ground  as 
is  covered  by  London,  Ludgate  Hill  and  Notting  Hill 
are  mere  molehills.*  As  to  water,  it  has  the  Thames, 
but  that  is  accessible  at  short  and  broken  intervals 
only.  There  is  the  Embankment  from  Blackfriars  to 
Westminster ;  a  short  bit  at  Chelsea,  and  the  Albert 
Embankment.  But  the  City  people  during  the  day  have 
no  time  to  waste  on  their  Embankment,  and  in  the 
evening  they  are  gone  to  the  suburbs,  and  so  this  grand 
promenade  is  given  up  to  occasional  country  cousins' 

*  The  highest  point  north  is  Hampstead  Hill,  400  feet  above 
sea-level  ;  to  the  south  Sydenham  Hill,  365  feet ;  Primrose  Hill, 
about  2G0  feet  ;  Heme  Hill,  about  180  feet  ;  Denmark,  about 
100  feet ;  Orme  Square,  05  feet ;  Broad  Walk,  90  feet ;  North 
Audley  Street,  83  feet ;  Tottenham  Court  Road,  85  feet ;  Regent 
Circus,  90  feet ;  Cornhill,  60  feet ;  Charing  Cross,  24  feet ; 
Euston  Road,  90  feet ;  Cheapside,  59  feet ;  Farringdon  Street, 
28  feet ;  St.  Katherine's,  Regent's  Park,  120  feet ;  Camberwell 
Green,  19  feet. 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        217 

visits,  and  to  permanent  ruffianism.  For,  of  course,  no 
one  from  the  more  northern  parts  of  London  ever  thinks 
of  coming  so  far  to  take  a  stroll  on  that  Embankment, 
from  which  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but  mud-banks  in  the 
near  prospect,  as  by  a  perverse  arrangement  of  nature  it 
is  generally  low  water  when  you  want  to  take  a  walk  ; 
on  the  opposite  bank  only  dismal  wharves  present 
themselves.  As  to  the  Chelsea  Embankment,  that  is 
patronized  by  the  dwellers  in  that  region  only,  if  they 
do  not  neglect  it  altogether,  as  people  generally  do 
who  live  in  a  rather  picturesque  locality.  The  less  we 
say  about  the  Albert  Embankment  the  better ;  its 
characteristics  are  dingy  hovels  and  smoke-belching 
pottery  chimneys  on  one  side,  smoke  and  cinders  from 
passing  steam-barges  and  penny  steamers  on  the  river, 
and  a  dreary  outlook  on  the  opposite  side,  scarcely  re- 
lieved by  the  Tate  Gallery,  which,  for  reasons  unknown 
to  the  general  public,  but  self-evident  to  those  who  can 
see  the  wire-pulling  behind,  has  been  pitched,  like  a 
King  Log,  into  the  Pimlico  swamp.  All  other  parts  of 
the  river  are  inaccessible  to  the  public,  and  therefore  as 
good  as  non-existent  for  the  Londoner. 

Thus  much  for  the  Thames.  As  to  other  pieces  of 
water  to  be  found  in  public  parks,  they  are  mere  ponds, 
and  of  benefit  only  locally.  As  to  public  fountains, 
which  form  the  peculiar  charm  of  so  many  Continental 
cities,  where  the  melodious  splash  of  water  is  heard  day 
and  night,  London  possesses  none.  True,  there  are 
two  squirts  in  Trafalgar  Square,  and  the  Shaftesbury 
fountain  is  making  asthmatic  efforts  to  assert  itself, 
whilst  the  Angel  at  the  top  seems  to  be  shooting  Folly 
as  it  flies  all  around  him  in  the  savoury  purlieus  of  the 


218  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Haymarket.  The  small  drinking  fountains  found  here 
and  there  are  evidences  of  philanthropy,  which  may  be 
grateful  to  children  and  tramps,  to  horses  and  dogs,  but 
do  not  add  much  to  the  aquatic  features  of  London. 
There  are  canals,  it  is  true,  but  they  are  private  pro- 
perty, and  so  fenced,  hoarded,  and  walled  in,  as  to  be  of 
no  use  to  the  public.  And  as  a  rule  their  water  is  so 
dirty  that  no  one  with  a  nose  would  walk  by  the  side 
of  them,  even  if  allowed  to  do  so. 

But  London  was  not  always  so  deadly  level  and  so 
waterless  as  it  is  now.  In  ancient  days  there  were  high 
hills  and  deep  valleys  in  the  very  heart  of  it.  From 
the  river  Lea  to  the  river  Brent  on  the  northern  side 
of  London  there  were  numerous  rivulets  and  brooks 
descending  from  the  northern  heights  through  the  City 
and  its  western  outskirts  into  the  Thames,  brooks  and 
rivulets  which  at  times  assumed  such  dimensions  as  to 
cause  serious  inundations.  It  was  the  same  in  the 
south  of  London,  where  from  the  Ravensbourne  to  the 
Wandle  similar  watercourses  reached  the  Thames  from 
the  southern  hills. 

All  those  brooks  between  the  four  rivers  we  have 
named,  and  which  alone  are  still  existing,  have  totally 
disappeared.  What  were  their  features,  when  they  still 
flowed  from  northern  and  southern  heights,  and  what 
were  the  causes  and  the  process  of  their  disappearance, 
we  now  intend  to  investigate,  by  proceeding  from  east 
to  west,  and  taking  the  northern  shore  of  the  Thames 
first. 

The  site  on  which  the  Romans  founded  London  was 
the  rising  ground  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Thames, 
from  the  present  Fish  Street  Hill,  or  Billingsgate,  to 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        219 

the  Wallbrook.  At  a  later  date  of  their  occupation 
they  extended  the  City  eastward  to  the  Tower,  and 
westward  to  the  valley  of  the  Fleet.  Then  the  valley 
of  the  Wallbrook  divided  the  City  into  two  portions  of 
almost  equal  size.  To  the  north  the  buildings  extended 
to  the  present  Aldgate  and  to  Moorfields,  and  westward 
to  Newgate  and  Ludgate.  The  wall  which  encom- 
passed the  town  began  at  the  Tower,  and  in  a  line 
with  various  bends  in  it  terminated  at  the  Arx  Palatina, 
somewhere  near  the  present  Times  office.  On  the  east 
of  the  town,  where  the  country  was  flat,  there  was  a 
marsh,  extending  to  the  river  Lea.  To  the  north-west 
were  dense  forests  stretching  far  into  Middlesex,  and 
abounding  with  deer,  wild  boar,  and  other  savage 
animals.  This  forest  was  partly  the  cause  of  the  many 
brooks,  which  in  those  days  watered  London  from  the 
northern  heights ;  it  being  a  well-known  fact  that  trees 
absorb  and  retain  moisture. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  there  were  any  Roman 
buildings  west  of  the  Fleet ;  Fleet  Street  and  the 
Strand  certainly  were  then  undreamt  of,  and  did  not 
come  into  existence  till  centuries  after  the  Romans  had 
left  our  island.  To  the  west  of  the  present  Strand,  the 
ground  lying  very  low,  it  was  frequently  inundated  by 
the  river,  and  there  are  persons  still  living  who  can 
remember  Belgravia  and  Pimlico  as  a  dismal  swamp. 
Westminster  Abbey  stood  on  an  island,  which  rose 
above  the  marshy  environs,  and  even  as  late  as  the 
times  of  Charles  II.  occasional  high  tides  converted  the 
palace  of  Whitehall  into  an  island. 

The  great  forest  of  Middlesex  above  mentioned  came 
close  to   the   City  wall ;    it  had,  in   fact,  occupied  a 


220  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

portion  of  the  site  on  which  the  City  was  built,  and  as 
much  of  it  had  been  cut  down,  and  so  much  space 
cleared,  as  the  builders  required  for  their  operations. 
But  the  nature  of  the  forest  ground  could  not  be  as 
readily  changed.  It  was  still  fall  of  moisture,  and 
numerous  rills  continued  to  flow  through  it.  Now,  one 
of  the  most  important  of  them  was  the  Langbourne. 

This  watercourse,  so  called  because  of  its  length,  took 
its  rise  in  ground  now  forming  part  of  Fenchurch 
Street.  It  ran  swiftly  through  that  street  in  a  west- 
ward direction,  across  Grass,  now  Gracechurch  Street, 
into  and  down  Lombard  Street — where  many  Roman 
remains  have  been  discovered — to  the  west  of  St.  Mary 
Woolnoth  Church,  where  it  turned  sharply  round  to 
the  south  and  gave  name  to  Sherbourne  Lane,  so 
termed  of  sharing  or  dividing,  because  there  it  broke 
into  a  number  of  rills  and  so  reached  the  Thames. 
From  this  watercourse  Langbourne  Ward  took  its 
name.  Thus  says  Stow,  but  he  adds  that  in  his  day 
(1598)  this  bourne  had  long  been  stopped  up  at  the 
head,  and  the  rest  of  the  course  filled  up  and  paved 
over,  '  so  that  no  sign  thereof  remaineth  more  than  the 
name  aforesaid.1 

Some  modern  historians,  Mr.  Loftie,  for  instance, 
deny  the  existence  of  the  Langbourne  altogether. 
'  Stow  says  that  the  Langbourne  rose  in  Fenchurch 
Street  and  ran  down  Lombard  Street.  It  does  not 
seem  to  have  occurred  to  him  that  the  course  indicated 
is  up  hill,1  Mr.  Loftie  objects.  But  Fenchurch  Street 
was  then,  as  it  is  now,  considerably  higher  than  the 
outfall  of  the  Langbourne  into  the  Thames,  and  what 
do  we  know  of  the  then  levels  of  the  streets  through 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON         221 

which  it  was  said  to  have  run?  Upwards  of  thirty 
feet  under  the  present  level  of  Lombard  Street  Roman 
remains  have  been  found,  and  the  Langbourne,  as  we 
know  from  various  documents,  was  covered  in  as  early 
as  the  latter  part  of  the  twelfth  century,  a  time  when 
building  increased  rapidly  under  Fitz-Alwyn,  the  first 
Mayor  of  London  ;  moreover,  the  fenny  condition  of 
Fenchurch  Street  is  said  to  have  been  due  to  the  over- 
flowino;  of  the  Langbourne  at  its  source.  Mr.  Loftie 
says  that  the  original  name  of  the  Langbourne  was 
Langford ;  but  a  ford  implies  a  watercourse,  and  not 
a  mere  ditch  or  artificial  trench,  which,  receiving  the 
drainage  of  the  immediate  locality,  fell  into  the  Wall- 
brook,  as  Mr.  Burt  would  have  us  believe.  If  the 
Langbourne  never  existed,  whence  did  Langbourne 
Ward  derive  its  name  ? 

Proceeding  westward,  we  come  to  a  much  more  im- 
portant stream,  namely,  the  Wallbrook. 

No  more  striking  instance  of  the  changes  which 
Time  will  effect  in  the  topographical  aspect  of  a 
locality  can  be  found  than  that  which  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  Wallbrook  has  produced  within  the  limits 
of  its  own  course  and  in  its  surroundings.  Where  now  a 
smooth  expanse  of  asphalte  paving  covers  firm  ground 
(except  where  rendered  treacherously  dangerous  by 
sewer-like  railway  tunnels,  in  which  human  beings  are 
shot  to  and  fro  like  so  many  rats  enclosed  in  traps  in  a 
drain  !),  extending  from  Princes  Street  right  across  to 
the  Mansion  House,  and  to  and  down  the  street  called 
Wallbrook,  there,  centuries  ago,  yawned  a  wide  ravine 
with  precipitous  sides,  at  the  bottom  of  which  flowed 
the  brook  called  the  Wall-brook,  because,  rising  in  the 


222  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

upper  fenny  grounds  of  Moorfields,  it  entered  the  city 
through  an  opening  in  the  wall,  somewhere  near  the 
northern  end  of  the  present  Moorgate  Street.  The 
brook,  towards  its  southern  termination,  must  have 
been  of  considerable  width,  for  barges  could  be  rowed 
up  to  Bucklersbury — a  fact  commemorated  by  Barge 
Yard,  formerly  a  kind  of  dock,  but  now  solid  ground, 
opening  into  Bucklersbury.  The  width  of  the  Wall- 
brook  near  its  outfall  was  no  doubt  increased  by 
tributaries,  which,  flowing  from  the  opposite  portion 
of  the  City,  found  an  exit  on  the  western  bank.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  there  was  a  watercourse  along  the  line 
of  Cheapside ;  the  fact  is  stated  positively  by  Maitland. 
He  says :  '  At  Bread  Street  corner,  the  north-east  end, 
in  1595,  one  Thomas  Tomlinson  causing  in  the  High 
Street  of  Chepe  a  vault  to  be  digged,  there  was  found 
at  fifteen  feet  deep  a  fair  pavement,  like  that  above- 
ground,  and  at  the  further  end,  at  the  channel,  was 
found  a  tree,  sawed  into  five  steps,  which  was  to  step 
over  some  brook  running  out  of  the  west  towards  Wall- 
brook.  And  upon  the  edge  of  the  said  brook  there 
was  found  lying  the  bodies  of  two  great  trees,  the  ends 
whereof  were  then  sawed  off',  and  firm  timber  as  at  the 
first  when  they  fell.  It  was  all  forced  ground  until 
they  went  past  the  trees  aforesaid,  which  was  about 
seventeen  feet  deep,  or  better.  Thus  much  has  the 
ground  of  this  city  been  raised  from  the  main.  And 
here  it  may  be  observed  that  within  fourscore  years  and 
less,  Cheapside  was  raised  divers  feet  higher  than  it  was 
when  St.  Paul's  was  first  built,  as  appeared  by  several 
eminent  marks  discovered  in  the  late  laying  of  the 
foundation  of  that  church."'     The  mention  of  Cheapside 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        223 

as  a  highway  does  not  go  back  to  very  early  times.  In 
the  eleventh  century  it  must  have  been  a  mere  bog ; 
for,  when  in  1090  the  roof  of  Bow  Church  was  blown 
off  by  a  tempest,  the  rafters,  which  were  twenty-six  feet 
long,  penetrated  more  than  twenty  feet  into  the  soft 
soil  of  Cheapside.  The  course  of  the  brook  just  men- 
tioned west  of  Bread  Street  is  not  known  ;  it  is  doubtful 
whether  it  struck  off'  northward  by  about  Gutter  Lane, 
and  so  towards  springs  known  to  exist  near  Cripplegate, 
or  whether  it  came  from  further  westward,  from  the 
springs  which  supply  the  ancient  baths  in  Bath  Street 
(formerly  called  Bagnio  Court),  north  of  Newgate 
Street. 

But  we  must  return  to  the  Wallbrook  itself;  and, 
first,  as  to  its  course.  After  entering  the  City  through 
the  opening  in  the  wall,  it  curved  eastward,  ran  along 
Bell  Alley,  crossed  Tokenhouse  Yard  and  Lothbury, 
close  by  St.  Margaret's  Church,  curved  westward  again, 
passing  through  ground  now  covered  by  the  north-west 
corner  of  the  Bank  of  England  ;  crossing  the  present 
Princes  Street  and  the  Poultry,  it  ran  under  what  is 
now  the  National  Safe  Deposit,  whence,  by  an  almost 
semicircular  bend,  it  reached  Cannon  Street,  which  it 
crossed,  turning  westwardly  towards  St.  Michael's 
Church,  and  crossing  Thames  Street,  flowed  past 
Joiners1  Hall  into  the  Thames.  There  were  various 
bridges  over  the  said  watercourse.  There  was  one  close 
to  Bokerelsberi  (Bucklersbury),  which  in  1291  four 
occupiers  of  tenements  adjoining  the  bridge  were 
ordered  to  repair,  according  to  clauses  in  their  tenancies. 
There  was  another  over  against  the  wall  of  the  chancel 
of  the  church  of  St.  Stephen,  which  it  was  the  duty  of 


224  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  parishioners  to  repair,  as  they  were  ordered  to  do, 
for  instance,  in  1300.  At  Dowgate  Hill,  at  the  outfall 
of  the  Wallbrook  into  the  Thames,  there  was  discovered 
in  1884  an  ancient  landing-stage,  a  Roman  pavement 
in  tile,  set  upon  timber  piles,  with  mortised  jointing. 
The  stage  stood  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Wallbrook, 
facing  not  the  Thames,  but  the  brook.  It  was  twenty- 
one  feet  below  the  present  level  of  Dowgate  Hill,  and 
below  the  churchyard  of  St.  John's.  A  large  quantity 
of  stout  oak-piling  was  also  in  situ,  and  the  sill  of  the 
bridge  which  crossed  from  east  to  west  at  this  spot  was 
seen  very  plainly.  Another  landing-stage  appears  to 
have  existed  on  the  brook  at  a  spot  now  covered  by  the 
National  Safe  Deposit :  it  consisted  of  a  timber  flooring 
supported  by  huge  oak  timbers,  and  running  parallel 
with  the  stream.  Adjoining  this  were  evidences  of  a 
macadamized  roadway,  which  extended  in  a  line  with 
Bucklersbury,  until  it  reached  the  apparent  course  of 
the  brook.  Upon  the  opposite  side  similar  indications 
appeared,  so  that  here  also  a  bridge  may  have  existed. 
Another  bridge  seems  to  have  spanned  the  brook  near 
London  Wall,  in  Broad  Street  Ward,  with  yet  another 
a  little  more  south.  It  appears  that  in  the  year  1300 
both  these  bridges  required  repairs,  and  that  the  Prior 
of  the  Holy  Trinity,  who  was  liable  for  those  of  the 
first,  and  the  Prior  of  the  New  Hospital  without 
Bishopsgate,  who  was  bound  to  do  those  of  the  second, 
were  in  that  year  summoned  by  the  Mayor  and  Alder- 
men of  London  '  to  rebuild  the  said  bridges  and  keep 
them  in  repair.1 

When  in  the  seventies   the   National  Safe  Deposit 
Company  dug  down  some  forty  feet  into  the  ground, 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        225 

and  reached  the  ancient  course  of  the  Wallbrook,  they 
found  in  its  bed,  among  other  debris,  enormous 
quantities  of  broken  vessels  and  kitchen  utensils.  No 
doubt  the  careless  cooks  and  housemaids  of  the  ancient 
Romans  found  the  brook  handy  for  getting  rid  of 
the  evidences  of  mishap  or  recklessness ;  but  their 
successors  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  seem  to  have 
treated  it  with  even  greater  disrespect.  In  the  records 
of  the*  City  we  find  constant  references  to  the  disgraceful 
condition  of  the  Wallbrook.  In  1288  the  Warden  and 
Sheriffs  of  the  City  of  London  had  to  order  that  the 
watercourse  of  the  Wallbrook  should  be  made  free  from 
dung  and  other  nuisances,  and  that  the  rakes  should  be 
put  back  again  upon  every  tenement  extending  from 
Finsbury  Moor  to  the  Thames.  In  1374  the  Mayor 
and  Aldermen  granted  to  Thomas  atte  Ram,  brewer,  a 
seven  years'*  lease  of  the  Moor,  together  with  charge  of 
the  watercourse  of  Wallbrook,  without  paying  any  rent 
therefor,  upon  the  understanding  that  he  should  keep 
the  said  Moor  well  and  properly,  and  have  the  Wall- 
brook cleansed  for  the  whole  of  the  term,  clearing  it 
from  dung  and  other  filth  thrown  therein,  he  taking  for 
every  latrine  built  upon  the  said  watercourse  twelve 
pence  yearly.  And  if,  in  so  cleansing  it,  he  should  find 
aught  therein,  he  should  have  it  for  his  own.  But  it 
would  seem  that  Thomas  atte  Ram  did  not  properly 
perform  his  contract,  for  at  the  expiration  of  it,  namely 
in  1383,  we  find  by  an  Ordinance  of  the  Common 
Council  that,  '  whereas  the  watercourse  of  the  Wall- 
brook is  stopped  up  by  divers  filth  and  dung  thrown 
thereinto  by  persons  who  have  houses  along  the  said 
course,  to  the  great  nuisance  and  damage  of  all  the 

15 


226  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

City,  the  Aldermen  of  the  Wards  of  Coleman  Street, 
Broad  Street,  Chepe,  Wallbrook,  Vintry  and  Dowgate, 
through  whose  wards  the  said  watercourse  runs,  shall 
inquire  if  any  person  dwelling  along  the  said  course  has 
a  stable  or  other  house,  whereby  dung  or  other  filth 
may  fall  into  the  same ;  or  otherwise  throws  therein 
such  manner  of  filth  by  which  the  said  watercourse  is 
stopped  up,  and  they  (the  Aldermen)  shall  pursue  all 
such  offenders.  But  it  shall  be  lawful  for  those  persons 
who  have  houses  on  the  said  stream  to  have  latrines 
over  it,  provided  they  do  not  throw  rubbish  or  other 
refuse  through  the  same  .  .  .  and  every  person  having 
such  latrines  shall  pay  yearly  to  the  Chamberlain  two 
shillings  for  each  of  them."' 

With  such  arrangements,  and  the  constant  increase 
of  buildings  on  the  brook,  and  the  decrease  of  water 
supplied  to  it  by  the  springs  in  Moorfields,  which  were 
gradually  being  laid  dry,  the  Wallbrook,  from  a  clear 
stream,  became  a  foul  ditch,  an  open  sewer,  so  that  it 
was  found  necessary  to  convert  it  into  a  covered  one 
in  reality.  The  brook  was  filled  up  with  all  kinds 
of  debris  and  partially  bricked  over,  so  that  when 
Stow  wrote  (in  1598)  he  was  obliged  to  say  :  *  This 
watercourse  .  .  .  was  afterwards  vaulted  over  with 
brick,  and  paved  level  with  the  streets  and  lanes  .  .  . 
and  since  that  houses  also  have  been  built  thereon,  so 
that  the  course  of  Wallbrook  is  now  hidden  under- 
ground, and  thereby  hardly  known.'  The  stream  was 
covered  in  at  least  three  centuries  before  the  covering 
in  of  the  Fleet  river,  but  its  course  can  still  be  traced 
by  the  many  important  buildings  which  lined  its  banks. 
Commencing  at  its  influx  to  the   Thames,   there  were 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        227 

along  its  course  on  the  western  side  the  halls  of  the 
Innholders,  the  Dyers,  the  Joiners,  the  Skinners,  the 
Tallow-chandlers,  and  the  Cutlers ;  the  churches  of 
St.  John,  St.  Michael,  St.  Stephen  (which  originally 
stood  on  the  western  side),  St.  Mildred,  and  St. 
Margaret ;  also  the  Grocers'1  and  the  Founders"1  Halls, 
the  estates  of  the  Drapers  and  Leathersellers,  and  in 
Bucklersbury  Cornet's  Tower,  a  strong  stone  tower 
which  was  erected  by  Edward  III.  as  his  '  Exchange  of 
money  there  to  be  kept.1  In  the  sixteenth  century  it 
seems  to  have  come  into  the  possession  of  one  Buckle, 
a  grocer,  who  intended  to  erect  in  its  place  a  '  goodly 
frame  of  timber,1  but,  '  greedily  labouring  to  pull  down 
the  tower,"1  a  part  thereof  fell  upon  and  killed  him. 

In  1835  a  curious  discovery,  the  import  of  which  was 
then  unsuspected,  was  made  close  to  the  Swan's  Nest,  a 
public-house  in  Great  Swan  Alley,  Moorgate  Street. 
A  pit  or  well  was  laid  open,  in  which  was  found  a  large 
quantity  of  earthen  vessels  of  various  patterns.  This 
well  had  been  carefully  planked  over  with  stout  boards ; 
the  vases  it  contained  were  placed  on  their  sides,  em- 
bedded in  mud  or  sand,  which  had  settled  so  closely 
round  them  that  a  great  number  were  broken  in  the 
attempt  to  extricate  them.  A  coin  and  some  iron 
implements  were  also  found  in  the  well,  which  was 
about  three  feet  square,  and  boarded  on  each  side  with 
narrow  planks  about  two  feet  long.  The  object  with 
which  these  vessels,  etc.,  had  been  deposited  in  this 
well  was  not  at  the  time  surmised,  but  it  was  made 
clear  by  a  subsequent  discovery.  When  the  National 
Safe  Deposit  Company's  premises,  already  referred  to, 
were  built,  a  similar  wooden  framework  was  discovered 

15—2 


228  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

at  a  depth  of  about  thirty  feet  below  the  present  level  of 
the  street.  It  was  of  oak,  and  about  three  feet  square, 
and  the  contents  of  the  box  were  similar  to  those  found 
at  the  Swan's  Nest.  Fortunately  this  find  came  under 
the  observation  of  Mr.  John  E.  Price,  F.S.A.,  and 
Honorary  Secretary  of  the  London  and  Middlesex 
Archaeological  Society,  who  recognised  the  remains  as 
those  of  an  area  finalis,  a  monument  employed  by  the 
Roman  surveyors  to  indicate  the  situation  of  limits  of 
public  or  private  property,  answering  to  a  landmark  or 
boundary  stone.  Similar  structures,  occasionally  of 
stone  or  tiles,  have  been  discovered  in  other  parts  of 
England,  as  also  on  the  Continent.  It  is  therefore 
evident  that  the  box  found  higher  up  the  stream  was 
also  such  an  area. 

To  return  once  more  to  Wallbrook.  A  bridge  across 
it  we  have  not  yet  mentioned  was  Horseshoe  Bridge, 
situate  where  the  brook  crossed  Cloak  Lane,  which  was 
a  famous  shopping-place  of  the  ladies  of  those  early 
days,  fancy  articles  being  mostly  on  sale  there.  It  is, 
however,  time  to  leave  the  Wallbrook ;  let  us  part  from 
it  with  such  a  picture  on  our  minds  as  will  leave  a 
vivid  and  pleasant  impression.  Remember  that  its 
banks  were  favourite  sites  for  villas,  as  is  proved  by  all 
the  evidences  of  wealth  and  luxury  of  the  ancient 
dwellers  on  the  Wallbrook  ravine  and  adjoining  streets, 
now  buried  fathoms  deep  underground,  which  have  been 
found  on  and  near  the  banks  of  the  river.  *  A  villa  in 
beautiful  grounds  on  the  Wallbrook  to  be  let ' — think 
of  that ! 

From  the  valley  of  the  Wallbrook  the  ground  of  the 
City  rises  gently  towards  St.  Paul's, and  Panyers  Alley, 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        229 

the  highest  point ;  thence  it  falls  almost  precipitously 
towards  the  valley  of  the  Fleet  River,  so  precipitously, 
indeed,  that  one  of  the  descents  from  the  Old  Bailey  to 
Farringdon  Street  obtained  the  name  of  Breakneck 
Steps.  When  the  increase  of  the  population  of  the  old 
City  rendered  it  desirable  to  seek  new  habitations,  the 
citizens  looked  across  the  river  Fleet,  and  saw  the 
opposite  Holborn,  Back,  and  Saffron  Hills  as  yet  un- 
occupied, stretching  out  as  open  country — though  roads 
had  begun  to  be  established  thereon,  such  as  Field  Lane, 
then  in  the  fields — and  began  to  erect  dwellings  on  the 
western  bank  of  the  river.  This  led  to  the  erection  of 
bridges ;  we  think  Holborn  Bridge  was  the  first  to  be 
built.  But  before  we  enter  into  an  account  of  the 
bridges,  it  is  necessary  to  speak  of  the  river  itself. 

The  Fleet,  then,  which  once  formed  so  important  a 
feature  of  London  topography,  took  its  rise  in  the 
dense  clay  of  the  district  just  below  Hampstead  ;  at 
Kentish  Town  its  volume  was  increased  by  an  affluent 
from  Highgate  Ponds  ;  it  then  made  its  way  through 
the  hill  near  College  Street — whence  some  writers  infer 
that  the  name  of  Oldbourne,  by  which  the  river  was 
known  for  some  distance,  was  really  a  corruption  of 
Hole-bourne — and  entered  the  valley  formed  by  the 
hills  of  Camden  Town  and  the  Caledonian  Road, 
pursuing  its  course  to  Battle  Bridge — since  1830  known 
as  King's  Cross — where  it  received  an  affluent  from  the 
west,  which  rose  in  the  high  ground  to  the  south  of  the 
Hampstead  Road.  From  Battle  Bridge  the  river  bent 
round  to  the  east,  and  flowed  through  the  grounds  of 
Bagnigge  Wells,  once  the  residence  of  Nell  Gwynne, 
and  thence,  still  with  an  easterly  trend,  past  the  walls 


230  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

of  the  House  of  Correction,  thence  across  Baynes  Row, 
where  it  received  another  western  affluent,  taking  its 
rise  at  the  western  end  of  Guilford  Street.  Thence  it 
flowed  to  the  northern  end  of  Little  Saffron  Hill,  and 
in  this  part  of  its  course  it  sometimes  was  called  the 
River  of  Wells,  because  it  was  fed  by  a  number  of 
wells  or  springs,  all  situate  in  Clerkenwell,  and  known 
as  Clerks'1  Well,  Skinners'  Well,  Faggs'  Well,  Loder's 
Well,  Rad  Well,  and  Todd's  Well,  this  latter  a 
corruption  of  its  proper  name,  God's  Well,  from  which 
Goswell  Street  took  its  name.  The  river  thence  flowed 
down  the  valley  between  the  old  City  and  the  Holborn 
hills,  and  here  it  occasionally  went  by  the  name  of 
Turnmill  Brook,  because  of  the  mills  which  here  stood 
on  its  banks.  On  its  eastern  side  was  a  street  called 
Turnmill  Street,  which  in  later  days  acquired  a  very 
bad  reputation,  its  inhabitants  being  abandoned 
characters.  Originally  it  was  a  respectable  street,  the 
houses  having  gardens  going  down  to  the  river,  which 
was  fenced  on  both  sides.  In  its  southward  course  the 
river  presently  reached  Holborn  Bridge,  where  it  re- 
ceived the  affluent  called  the  Hol-bourne,  which  rose 
somewhere  near  St.  Giles'.  The  existence  of  this  brook 
is  denied  by  some  topographers,  but  it  is  distinctly 
shown  in  a  very  old  map  of  the  manor  of  Blemundsbury 
(Bloomsbury),  reproduced  in  Mr.  W.  Blott's  '  Chronicle 
of  Blemundsbury,'  1892.  And  we  see  no  reason  for 
doubting  the  correctness  of  the  map,  and  therefore 
adopt  the  Holbourne  as  a  fact.  The  Fleet  then  passed 
under  Chick  Lane,  afterwards  called  West  Street,  which 
crossed  the  river  at  right  angles,  and  in  quite  recent 
times   was  the  refuge  of  thieves,   burglars,   and   other 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON         231 

criminals  ;  and  means  of  concealment  and  of  escape  by 
way  of  the  river  were  revealed  when,  in  the  forties  and 
fifties,  West  Street  was  pulled  down  for  the  improve- 
ments then  in  progress  in  that  locality.  After  passing 
under  Holborn  Bridge,  the  river  was  known  as  the 
Fleet,  not  because  of  the  fleetness  of  its  course,  as  some 
writers  would  have  it,  for  it  never  had  much  of  that 
quality,  but  because  of  the  flood  or  high  tide  it  par- 
ticipated in  with  the  rise  of  the  Thames. 

Having  thus  traced  the  river  from  its  source  to  its 
mouth,  we  may  describe  the  bridges  which  crossed  it. 

In  the  northern  part  of  its  course  the  river,  where  it 
passed  through  what  in  the  early  days  was  still  country, 
was  no  doubt  here  and  there  crossed  by  bridges,  but 
they  were  probably  wooden  bridges  of  light  con- 
struction, as  the  traffic  was  but  limited.  The  first  solid 
bridge  we  have  any  record  of  is  the  one  which  existed 
at  Battle  Bridge,  which  derived  its  name  from  the 
battle  between  Suetonius  Paulinus  and  Boadicea,  the 
Queen  of  the  Iceni,  which  is  said  to  have  been  fought 
on  the  spot,  and  from  the  brick  bridge  which  in  early 
times  there  crossed  the  Fleet.  Originally  it  was  built 
of  wood,  but  at  an  uncertain  date  later  on  it  was  re- 
placed by  one  of  brick,  consisting  of  a  number  of  arches. 
Battle  Bridge,  from  the  lowness  of  its  situation,  was 
exposed  to  frequent  inundations.  In  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  May,  1818,  we  read :  '  From  the  heavy 
rain  which  commenced  yesterday  .  .  .  Battle  Bridge, 
St.  Pancras,  and  part  of  Somers  Town  was  inundated. 
The  water  was  several  feet  deep  in  many  of  the  houses, 
and  covered  an  extent  of  upwards  of  a  mile.  The 
carcases  of  several  sheep  and  goats  were  found  .  .  .  and 


232  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

property  was  damaged  to  a  very  considerable  amount.1 
Various  Acts  were  passed  at  the  beginning  of  this 
century  for  the  improvement  of  the  locality  :  the  river 
was  completely  arched  over,  and  in  1830  the  spot 
assumed  the  name  of  King's  Cross  from  the  ridiculous 
structure  erected  in  the  centre  of  the  cross  roads ;  it 
was  of  octagon  shape,  surmounted  by  a  statue  of 
George  IV.  The  basement  was  for  some  time  occupied 
as  a  police-station,  then  as  a  public-house,  and  the  whole 
was  taken  down  in  1845,  and  a  tall  lamp  erected  on  the 
spot. 

The  Fleet  was  next  crossed  by  an  ornamental,  some- 
what rustic  bridge  in  the  grounds  of  Bagnigge  Wells  ; 
of  course  it  disappeared  with  the  gardens  and  build- 
ings of  the  Wells  in  1841.  In  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries,  when  Clerkenwell,  from  an  almost 
rural  became  an  urban  district,  streets  began  to  cross 
the  Fleet,  such  as  Baynes  Row,  Eyre  Street  Hill, 
Mutton  Hill,  Peter  Street,  and  others.  The  next  old 
bridge  we  came  to  was  Cow  Bridge,  by  Cow  Lane,  or 
the  present  Cow  Cross.  It  dated  from  the  middle  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  Stow,  writing,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, in  1598,  says:  'This  bridge  being  lately 
decayed,  another  of  timber  is  made  by  Chick  Lane.1 
In  the  time  of  Elizabeth  the  ground  from  Cow  Cross 
towards  the  Fleet  River,  and  towards  Ely  House,  on  the 
opposite  bank,  was  either  entirely  vacant  or  occupied 
with  gardens. 

We  next  come  to  Chick  Lane,  afterwards  known  as 
West  Street.  Stow,  writing  in  1603,  refers  to  Chicken 
Lane,  '  toward  Turnmill  Brook,  and  over  that  brook  by 
a  timber  bridge  into  the  field.''     This  must  have  been 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        233 

Chick  Lane,  which  was  really  a  bridge  of  houses,  the 
most  noticeable  of  which  was  one  which  once  had  been 
known  as  the  Red  Lion  Inn,  and  which  at  its  demo- 
lition is  supposed  to  have  been  three  hundred  years  old. 
For  the  last  hundred  years  of  its  existence  it  was  used 
as  a  lodging-house,  and  was  the  resort  of  thieves, 
coiners,  and  other  criminals.  Its  dark  closets,  trap- 
doors, sliding  panels,  and  secret  recesses  rendered  it  one 
of  the  most  secure  places  for  robbery  and  murder ; 
openings  in  the  walls  and  floors  afforded  easy  means  of 
getting  rid  of  the  bodies  by  dropping  them  into  the 
Fleet,  which  for  many  years  before  its  final  abolition 
was  only  known  as  the  Fleet  Ditch.  The  history  and 
description  of  the  houses  in  West  Street  were  rendered 
so  well  known  at  the  time  of  their  demolition  that  we 
need  not  enter  into  them  here ;  besides,  they  are 
beyond  the  scope  of  our  inquiries. 

South  of  Chick  Lane  was  Holborn  Bridge,  which  was 
built  of  stone,  and,  according  to  Aggas1  map  of  London 
in  1560,  had  houses  on  the  north  side  of  it.  The  date 
of  its  original  foundation  is  not  given  in  any  chronicle, 
but  it  must  have  gone  far  back,  probably  was  coeval 
with  the  building  of  London  Bridge,  since  it  was  on  the 
great  highway  from  east  to  west.  At  first  it  was,  like 
all  the  other  bridges  on  the  Fleet,  constructed  of  wood ; 
after  its  erection  in  stone,  with  a  width  of  some  twelve 
feet,  it  seems  to  have  been  gradually  widened  to 
accommodate  the  increasing;  traffic.  According  to 
Mr.  Crosby,  a  great  authority  on  the  antiquities  of  the 
Fleet  valley,  Holborn  Bridge  consisted  of  four  different 
bridges  joined  together  at  the  sides.  Yet  in  1670  the 
bridge  was  found  to  be  too  narrow  for  the  traffic,  and  it 


234  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

had  to  be  rebuilt,  so  that  the  way  and  passage  might 
run  in  a  '  bevil  line '  from  a  certain  timber-house  on 
the  north  side,  known  by  the  name  of  the  Cock,  to 
the  Swan  Inn.  Wren  built  the  new  bridge  on  the 
north  or  Holborn  side  accordingly,  and  the  name  of 
William  Hooker,  Lord  Mayor  in  1673-74,  was  cut  on 
the  stone  coping  of  the  eastern  approach.  What  was 
meant  by  the  '  bevil  line ,  is  to  us  obscure,  and  we  are 
not  much  enlightened  by  what  Sir  William  Tite  says, 
who  in  1840  was  present  at  the  opening  of  a  sewer  at 
Holborn  Hill,  and  saw  the  southern  face  of  the  old 
bridge  disinterred.  '  The  arch,1  he  says,  '  was  about 
twenty  feet  span.  The  road  from  the  east  intersected 
the  bridge  obliquely,  and  out  of  the  angle  thus  formed 
a  stone  corbel  arose  to  carry  the  parapet.1  Of  course, 
with  the  disappearance  of  the  Fleet  Ditch  the  bridge 
also  vanished. 

The  next  bridge  we  come  to  started  from  Fleet  Lane 
on  the  east  side  to  Harp  Alley  on  the  Holborn  side. 
As  it  was  about  half-way  between  Holborn  and  Fleet 
Street  bridges,  it  was  sometimes  called  Middle  Bridge. 
It  was  built  of  stone,  with  a  stone  rail  and  banister, 
and  was  ascended  by  fourteen  steps,  and  as  high  as 
Bridewell  and  Fleet  bridges,  to  allow  vessels  with 
merchandise  to  pass  under  it.  It  had  been  erected  in 
1674,  and  disappeared  with  the  other  bridges  on  the 
covering  in  of  the  Fleet. 

The  Fleet  Bridge,  which  we  reach  next,  joined 
Ludgate  Hill  to  Fleet  Street.  This  bridge  was,  in 
1431,  repaired  at  the  charges  of  John  Wels,  Mayor. 
It  was  destroyed  by  the  Great  Fire,  and  the  new  one 
erected  in  its  stead  was  of  the  breadth  of  the  street, 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        235 

and  ornamented  with  pineapples  and  the  City  arms. 
But  though  larger  in  breadth,  it  had  not  the  length  of 
the  old  bridge,  the  channel  having  then  been  already 
considerably  narrowed.  The  bridge  was  taken  down 
in  1765. 

To  the  south  of  Fleet  Bridge  the  river  was  spanned 
by  a  building,  which  seems  to  have  been  a  dwelling  or 
a  warehouse.     It  is  distinctly  shown  on  Aggas"  map. 

Bridewell  Bridge,  the  last  over  the  Fleet  before  its 
entering  the  Thames,  and  the  last  built  (in  the  six- 
teenth century),  was  at  first  a  timber  bridge,  between 
Blackfriars  and  the  House  of  Bridewell,  on  the  site  of 
the  Castle  Mountfiquet,  which  originally  stood  there. 
In  1708,  or  thereabouts,  it  was  replaced  by  one  of 
stone,  much  higher  than  the  street,  being  ascended  by 
fourteen  steps.  It  was  for  foot  passengers  only.  It 
was  pulled  down  in  17G5. 

We  may  now  conclude  our  account  of  the  Fleet  with 
a  few  statements  concerning  the  vicissitudes  it  passed 
through. 

A  great  many  antiquities  —  British,  Saxon,  and 
Roman — have  been  found  in  the  bed  of  this  river,  such 
as  coins  of  silver,  copper,  and  brass,  but  none  of  gold  ; 
lares,  spur  rowels,  keys,  daggers,  seals,  medals,  vases, 
and  urns.  An  anchor,  three  feet  ten  inches  in  height, 
encrusted  with  rust  and  pebbles — a  sketch  of  which 
is  given  in  the  October  number  of  the  Gentleman1 s 
Magazine,  1843 — is  said  to  have  been  discovered  near 
the  site  of  Holborn  Bridge,  which  may  be  genuine,  as 
ships  are  known  to  have  ascended  so  far  up  the  river 
in  the  fourteenth  century.  But  early  in  that  century 
already  the  river  was  choked  up  '  by  the  filth  of  the 


236  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

tanners  and  others,  and  by  the  raising  of  wharves,  and 
especially  by  a  diversion  of  the  water  in  the  first  year 
of  King  John  (1200)  by  them  of  the  New  Temple  for 
their    mills    without    Baynard's    Castle,  and    by   other 
impediments,  the  course  was  decayed,  and  ships  could 
not  enter  as  they  were  used.1     Upon  this  complaint  of 
Henry  Lacy,  Earl  of  Lincoln,  the  river  was  cleansed, 
the  mills  removed,  and  other  means  taken  for  its  pre- 
servation ;  but  it  was  not  brought  to  its  former  depth 
and   wridth,  and   so   was   soon    filled  with    mud  again. 
The  scouring  of  the  river  seems  to  have  been  necessary 
every  thirty  or  forty  years,  at  a  great  expense  to  the 
City.     We  find   that  it  was  so  cleansed  in  1502,  and 
once  more  rendered  navigable  for  large  barges,  but  the 
dwellers  on  its  banks  would  continue  to  make  it  the 
receptacle  of  all  the  refuse,  and  the  wharves  built  on 
its    banks    proved    unsuccessful,   as    vessels    could   not 
approach  them.     Consequently,   in   1733    the   City  of 
London,  seeing  that  all  navigation  had  ceased,  and  that 
the  ditch,  as  it  was  then  called,  was  a  danger  to  the 
public  on  account  of  its  unsanitary  state,  and  because 
persons  had  fallen  in  and  been  suffocated  in  the  mud, 
began    covering   it    in,  commencing  with  the    portion 
from  Fleet   Bridge  to   Holborn  Bridge,  and  the  new 
Fleet  Market  was  erected  on   the  site  in  1737.     The 
part    from   Fleet    Street   to    the   Thames  was    covered 
in  when  the  approaches  to  Blackfriars  were  completed 
between  1760  and  1768.     One  stubborn  citizen,  how- 
ever, would  not  surrender  a  small  filthy  dock  ;  a  barber, 
from    Bromley,    in    Kent,   was,   in    1763,   found    in    it 
standing  upright  and  frozen  to  death. 

Like  all  brooks  descending  from  hills,  the  Fleet  was 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON         237 

liable  to  sudden  increases  of  volume,  causing  inunda- 
tions.* The  melting  of  snow  and  ice  by  a  sudden  thaw 
and  heavy  and  long-continued  rains  have  frequently 
turned  the  Fleet  into  a  mighty  and  destructive  torrent 
flood.  In  1679  it  broke  down  the  back  of  several 
wholesale  butcher-houses  at  Cow  Cross,  and  carried  off 
cattle  dead  and  alive.  At  Hockley-in-the-Hole  barrels 
of  ale,  beer,  and  brandy  floated  down  the  stream.  In 
1768  the  Hampstead  Ponds  overflowing  after  a  severe 
storm,  the  Fleet  grew  into  a  torrent,  and  the  roads  and 
fields  about  Bagnigge  Wells  were  inundated  ;  in  the 
gardens  of  the  latter  place  the  water  was  four  feet 
deep ;  in  Clerkenwell  many  thousand  pounds1  worth  of 
damage  was  done.  In  1809  a  sudden  thaw  produced  a 
flood,  and  the  whole  space  between  St.  Pancras  and 
Pentonville  Hill  was  soon  under  water,  and  for  several 
days  people  received  their  provisions  in  at  their  windows. 
In  1846  a  furious  thunderstorm  caused  the  Fleet  Ditch 
to  blow  up.  The  rush  from  the  drain  at  the  north 
arch  of  Blackfriars  Bridge  drove  a  steamer  against  one 
of  the  piers  and  damaged  it.  The  water  penetrated 
into  basements  and  cellars,  and  one  draper  had  i?3,000 
worth  of  goods  ruined.  From  Acton  Place,  Bag- 
nigge Wells  Road,  to  King's  Cross,  the  roads  were 
impassable.  In  1855  the  Fleet,  as  one  of  the  metro- 
politan main  sewers,  became  vested  in  the  then  newly- 
established   Metropolitan   Board   of  Works.      Shortly 

°  Wherever  there  are  such  brooks  the  same  phenomenon 
appears.  Visitors  to  Nice  may  have  witnessed  the  sudden  rise 
of  the  Paillon,  and  the  Birsig  at  Basle,  usually  a  fine  thread  of 
water,  has  repeatedly  risen  five  or  six  feet  high  in  the  market- 
place of  that  town. 


238  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

after  the  Metropolitan  Railway  was  planned,  and  in 
1860  the  work  was  commenced.  One  of  the  greatest 
initial  difficulties  the  engineers  of  that  enterprise  had 
to  contend  with  was  the  irruption  of  the  Fleet  Ditch 
into  their  works ;  the  Fleet  gave,  as  does  the  last  flare 
of  an  expiring  candle,  its  '  last  kick,1  made  a  final  effort 
to  assert  itself.  The  ditch,  under  which  the  railway 
had  to  pass  two  or  three  times,  suddenly  though  not 
unexpectedly  filled  the  tunnel  with  its  dark  foetid 
liquid,  which  carried  all  before  it;  scaffoldings  con- 
structed of  the  stoutest  timbers  and  solid  stone  and 
brick  walls  and  piers.  But  the  Metropolitan  Board  of 
Works  and  the  railway  company,  by  gigantic  and 
skilfully-conducted  efforts,  succeeded  in  forming  an 
outlet  for  the  flood  into  the  Thames  ;  the  damage  was 
made  good,  and  the  work  was  successfully  carried  out. 

Here  we  take  our  leave  of  the  Fleet,  and  proceeding 
westward,  find  nothing  to  arrest  our  steps  till  we  come 
to  a  spot  which  once  went  by  the  name  of  the  Strand 
Bridge ;  not  Waterloo  Bridge,  which  originally  was  so 
called,  but  a  '  fair  bridge,"  as  Stow  calls  it,  erected 
many  hundred  years  ago  over  a  brook  which  crossed 
the  Strand  opposite  to  the  present  Strand  Lane,  and 
descended  from  the  ponds  in  Ficketfs  Fields,  part  of 
Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  now  all  built  over.  This  bridge 
probably  disappeared  about  the  year  1550,  when  an 
Act  was  passed  for  paving  the  streets  east  and  west  of 
Temple  Bar,  and  '  Strand  Bridge '  is  specially  mentioned 
in  the  Act ;  the  paving  of  the  Strand  seems  to  have 
done  away  with  the  brook  and  the  bridge  over  it.  The 
name  of  Strand  Bridge  was  also  given  to  the  landing- 
stage  at  the  bottom  of  Strand  Lane,  which  descends  in 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON         239 

a  tortuous  line  from  the  Strand  down  to  the  Thames. 
In  this  lane  there  is  at  the  present  day  the  old  Roman 
bath,  which,  it  is  supposed,  is  supplied  from  the  well 
which  gave  its  name  to  Holywell  Street,  and  which 
supply  never  fails. 

There  are  no  written  records  or  other  traces  of  any 
brook  descending  from  the  northern  heights  through 
London  west  of  the  Strand,  till  we  come  to  the  Tyburn. 

This  brook,  like  the  Fleet,  took  its  rise  near  Hamp- 
stead,  but  turning  westward,  and  receiving  several 
tributary  streamlets,  it  ran  due  south  through  the 
Regent's  Park,  where  it  was  joined  by  another  affluent 
from  the  site  of  the  present  Zoological  Gardens,  from 
which  point  it  turned  to  the  west  and  crossed  the 
Marylebone  Road  opposite  Gloucester  Terrace,  and 
after  running  parallel  with  it  for  a  short  distance  it 
took  a  sharp  turn  to  the  east,  following  the  hollow 
in  which  the  present  Marylebone  Lane  stands,  the 
windings  of  which  indicate  the  course  of  the  brook. 
On  reaching  the  southern  end  of  High  Street,  it  again 
turned  to  the  south,  crossed  Oxford  Street,  ran  down 
part  of  South  Molton  Street,  turned  west  again  to  the 
south  of  Berkeley  Square ;  thence  it  flowed  through  the 
narrow  passage  between  the  gardens  of  Lansdowne 
House  and  Devonshire  House,  whose  hollow  sound 
seems  to  indicate  the  existence  of  the  watercourse 
below.  It  next  crossed  Piccadilly,  ran  due  south 
through  the  Green  Park,  passed  under  Buckingham 
Palace,  directly  after  which  it  divided  into  three 
branches,  one  of  which  ran  through  the  ornamental 
water  in  St.  James's  Park,  whence  it  fell  into  the 
Thames  :  the  middle  branch  ran  into  the  ancient  Abbev 


240  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

at  Westminster,  where  it  turned  the  mills  the  monks 
had  erected  there.  But  from  old  maps  it  appears  that 
this  arm  of  the  Tyburn,  at  a  point  a  little  north-west 
of  the  Abbey,  threw  out  a  branch  which  in  a  northerly 
course  rejoined  the  park,  and  then  in  a  curved  line  to 
the  east  reached  the  Thames  at  a  point  not  far  from 
Westminster  Bridge,  and  to  the  north-east  of  it.  The 
spot  where  this  branch  touched  St.  James's  Park  was 
close  to  Storey's  Gate.  Now  last  year  (1898)  when  the 
ground  was  being  excavated  for  the  foundations  of  the 
new  Institute  of  Mechanical  Engineers,  the  workmen 
came  upon  the  piles  and  brickwork  of  an  ancient  wharf. 
The  structure  was  wonderfully  well  preserved  ;  it  had 
evidently  been  well  constructed,  probably  by  the  monks, 
and  may  have  been  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
fishermen  bringing  their  goods  to  the  monastery.  But 
at  present,  and  until  further  information  is  obtained,  if 
ever  it  is  obtained,  we  can  only  form  conjectures  as  to 
the  purposes  of  the  wharf;  but  its  discovery  on  that 
spot  is  curiously  illustrative  of  the  history  which  still 
lies  hidden  under  our  streets. 

We  have  yet  to  mention  the  third  branch  of  the 
Tyburn,  which  started  south  of  Buckingham  Palace. 
It  ran  in  a  southerly  direction  across  Victoria  Street, 
for  a  short  distance  skirted  the  Vauxhall  Bridge  Road, 
then  crossed  it  and  ran  through  the  marshy  grounds 
then  existing  down  to  the  Thames  a  little  to  the  west 
of  Vauxhall  Bridge. 

Such  was  the  course  of  the  Tyburn.  Of  the  bridges 
that  once  must  have  crossed  it  not  a  vestige  remains  : 
but  we  have  the  record  of  one  which  was  at  the  spot 
which    is    now   Stratford   Place,   and   where    the    Lord 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        241 

Mayor's  Banqueting-house  stood,  to  which  he  resorted 
when  he,  the  Aldermen,  and  other  distinguished  citizens 
went  to  inspect  the  head  conduits  from  which  the  City 
conduits  were  supplied,  on  which  occasions  they  com- 
bined pleasure  with  business,  hunting  the  hare  before 
and  the  fox  after  dinner.  The  Tyburn  must  at  one 
time  have  been  a  stream  of  considerable  size  ;  in  the 
year  1238  it  was  so  copious  as  to  furnish  nine  conduits 
for  supplying  the  City  with  water.  It  had  rows  of 
elms  growing  on  its  banks,  and  as  it  generally,  but 
erroneously,  is  supposed  to  have  flowed  past  the  southern 
corner  of  the  Edgware  Road,  the  name  of  Elm  Place 
was  given  to  a  street  (now  pulled  down)  west  of 
Connaught  Place.  How  this  error  arose  we  shall  show 
when  speaking  of  the  West  Bourne.  On  the  Tyburn 
stood  the  church  of  St.  Mary  la  bonne  ;  by  the  vulgar 
omission  of  letters  *  burn ,  became  '  bone,1  hence  Mary- 
lebone.  The  Tyburn,  like  the  other  brooks  already 
discussed,  is  now  a  mere  sewer. 

Proceeding  still  further  west,  we  come  to  the  West- 
bourne,  which,  like  the  other  brooks,  rose  in  the 
northern  heights  above  London.  Around  Jack  Straw's 
Castle  at  Hampstead  various  rills  sprang  from  the 
ground,  which,  forming  a  united  stream  a  little  north 
of  the  Finchley  Road,  that  stream,  flowing  west  towards 
the  spot  known  as  West  End,  continued  its  western 
course  till  it  reached  Maygrove  Road ;  it  crossed  that 
road,  and  taking  a  sudden  turn  south,  it  ran  through 
Kilburn  down  to  Belsize  Road,  south  of  which  a  small 
lake  was  formed,  by  its  confluence  there  with  a  con- 
siderable tributary  in  the  form  of  a  two-pronged  fork 
and  its  handle,  coming  from  the  lower  southern  heights 

16 


242  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

of  Hampstead.  From  the  lake  the  Westbourne  flowed 
in  a  westerly  course,  and  near  Cambridge  Road  re- 
ceived another  affluent  from  the  high  ground  where 
Paddington  Cemetery  now  stands ;  still  running  west 
at  Chippenham  Road,  its  volume  was  further  increased 
by  the  reception  of  a  stream  coming  from  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Brondesbury,  and  from  this  point  it  ran 
due  south,  but  with  many  windings,  through  Paddington, 
and  across  the  Uxbridge  Road,  through  part  of  Ken- 
sington Gardens,  through  the  Serpentine  in  Hyde  Park 
and  across  the  Knightsbridge  Road,  and  what  was  then 
called  the  Five  Fields,  a  miserable  swamp,  and  formed 
the  eastern  boundary  of  Chelsea  till  it  discharged  itself 
into  the  Thames,  west  of  Chelsea  Bridge,  but  divided 
into  a  considerable  number  of  small  streams. 

Such  was  its  course,  and  from  its  description  we  see 
that  it  was  no  insignificant  stream,  and  may  assume  that 
the  first  settlers  in  those  northern  parts  of  London  must 
be  looked  for  on  its  banks.  Like  the  Fleet,  it  had  various 
names  in  different  localities  ;  thus  at  Kilburn  it  was 
known  as  the  Keele  Bourne,  Coldbourne,  and  Kilbourne ; 
at  Bayswater  it  was  called  the  Bayswater  Rivulet ;  the 
name  of  Bayswater  itself  is  supposed  to  be  derived  from 
Baynard,  who  built  Baynard  Castle  on  the  Thames, 
and  also  possessed  lands  at  Bayswater.  At  the  end  of 
the  fourteenth  century  it  was  called  Baynard's  Watering- 
place,  which  in  time  was  shortened  to  its  present 
appellation. 

The  bridge  which  gave  Knightsbridge  its  name  was 
a  stone  bridge ;  by  whom  or  when  erected  is  not  on 
record,  but  probably  Edward  the  Confessor,  who 
conferred  the  land  about  here  on  the  Abbots  of  West- 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON         243 

minster,  also  built  the  bridge  for  their  accommodation. 
The  road  was  the  only  way  to  London  from  the  west, 
and  the  stream  was  broad  and  rapid.  The  bridge  was 
situated  in  front  of  the  present  entrance  into  the  Park 
by  Albert  Gate,  and  part  of  it  still  remains  underground, 
while  the  other  portion  was  removed  for  the  Albert 
Gate  improvements.  In  the  churchwardens1  accounts 
of  St.  Margaret's,  Westminster,  are  the  following  entries 
regarding-  the  bridge : 

1630.  Item,  received   of  John    Fennell  and  Ralph     £     s.    d. 

Atkinson,  collectors  of  the  escheat,  for  repair 

of  Brentford  Bridge  and  Knightsbridge       .     23     6     4 

1631.  Item,  paid  towards  the  repairs  of  Brentford 

Bridge  and  of  Knightsbridge,  etc.        .         .     24     7  10 

The  Westbourne  was  occasionally  a  source  of  in- 
convenience and  even  danger  to  the  inhabitants  of 
Knightsbridge.  After  heavy  rains  or  in  sudden  thaws 
it  overflowed.  On  September  1,  1768,  it  did  so,  and 
did  great  damage,  almost  undermining  some  of  the 
houses ;  and  in  January,  1809,  it  overflowed  again,  and 
covered  the  neighbouring  fields  so  deeply  that  they 
resembled  a  lake,  and  passengers  were  for  several  days 
rowed  from  Chelsea  to  Westminster  by  Thames  boatmen. 

On  the  site  now  covered  by  St.  George's  Row,  Pimlico, 
there  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century  a  house  of 
entertainment  known  as  'Jenny's  Whim*'  A  long  wooden 
bridge  over  one  of  the  many  arms  of  the  Westbourne 
led  up  to  the  house.  The  present  Ebury  Bridge  over 
the  Grosvenor  Canal,  which  this  river-branch  has  become, 
occupies  the  site  of  this  old  bridge.  '  Jenny's  Whim ' 
had  trim  gardens,  alcoves,  ponds,  and  facilities  for  duck- 

16—2 


244  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

hunting ;  in  the  gardens  were  recesses,  where,  by  tread- 
ing on  a  spring,  up  started  different  figures,  some  ugly 
enough  to  frighten  people,  a  harlequin,  a  Mother  Shipton, 
or  some  terrible  animal.  Horace  Walpole  occasionally 
alludes  to  'Jenny's  Whim'';  in  one  of  his  letters  to 
Montagu,  he  says  :  '  Here  (at  Vauxhall)  we  picked  up 
Lord  Granby,  arrived  very  drunk  from  Jenny's  Whim.' 
Towards  the  beginning  of  this  century  '  Jenny's  Whim ' 
began  to  decline ;  at  last  it  sank  down  to  the  condition 
of  a  beershop,  and  in  1804  it  was  finally  closed.  The 
origin  of  the  name  is  doubtful.  Davis,  the  historian  of 
Knightsbridge,  accepts  the  account  given  him  by  an  old 
inhabitant,  that  it  was  so  called  from  its  first  landlady, 
who  directed  the  gardens  to  be  laid  out  in  so  fantastic  a 
manner  as  to  cause  the  noun  to  be  added  to  her  own 
Christian  name.  Other  reports  say  that  the  place  was 
established  by  a  celebrated  pyrotechnist  in  the  reign  of 
George  I.;  but  that  does  not  account  for  the  name. 

Like  other  London  rivers,  the  Westbourne  in  the  end 
became  a  sewer ;  it  was  gradually  covered  up ;  of  the 
two  chief  branches  by  which  it  reached  the  Thames, 
the  eastern  one  became  the  Grosvenor  Canal,  and  the 
western  the  Ranelagh  Sewer.  The  canal  was  crossed  by 
several  other  bridges,  Stone  Bridge  being  one  of  them. 

We  stated  above  that  the  Westbourne  formed  the 
western  boundary  of  Chelsea ;  its  eastern  boundary  was 
also  a  river,  or  rather  rivulet,  which  it  appears  never 
even  had  a  name,  though  in  one  old  map  I  find  it  called 
Bridge  Creek.  It  rose  in  Wormwood  Scrubs,  skirted 
the  West  London  and  Westminster  Cemetery,  and 
entered  the  Thames  west  of  Battersea  Bridge,  where,  in 
fact,  there  is  still  a  creek  going  some  distance  inland. 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        245 

The  rest  of  the  stream  has  been  absorbed  by  the  West 
Kensington  Railway.  No  vestige  of  it  remains,  and  it 
has  no  history. 

Brook  Green  took  its  name  from  a  brook  which  once 
rose  near  Shepherd's  Bush,  but  it  has  no  records. 

The  next  river  we  should  come  to,  if  we  pursued  our 
journey  westward,  would  be  the  Brent;  but  as  that  is 
still  existing- — how  Ions;  will  it  continue  to  do  so  ? — it 
does  not  enter  into  the  scope  of  our  investigations. 

Having  now  given  an  account  of  all  the  extinct  brooks 
north  of  the  Thames,  we  will  cross  that  river  and  see 
what  watercourses  formerly  existed  on  the  Surrey  side. 

The  southern  banks  of  the  Thames,  being  low  and 
flat,  originally  were  a  swamp,  continually  overflowed  by 
the  river — Lambeth  Marsh  commemorates  that  condition 
of  the  locality.  Down  to  Deptford,  Peckham,  Camber- 
well,  Stock  well,  Brixton,  and  Clapham  did  the  flood 
extend.  But  by  the  gradual  damming  up  of  the  southern 
bank  of  the  Thames,  the  erection  of  buildings  on  the 
Surrey  side,  and  the  draining  of  the  soil,  the  latter  was 
gradually  laid  dry,  and  the  numerous  rivulets  which 
meandered  through  the  marsh  were  reduced  to  three 
between  the  still-existing  rivers — namely,  the  Ravens- 
court  to  the  east,  and  the  Wandle  to  the  west.  The 
first  brook,  again  going  from  east  to  west,  is  the 
Neckinger,  which  rose  at  the  foot  of  Denmark  Hill  and 
adjacent  parts,  and,  after  passing  in  two  streams  under 
the  Old  Kent  Road,  united  north  of  it,  and  reached  the 
Thames  at  St.  Saviour's  Dock,  which,  in  fact,  is  the 
enlarged  mouth  of  the  old  river.  But  according  to 
some  old  maps  we  have  consulted,  it  had  a  branch 
running  in  a  more  easterly  direction,  and  entering  the 


246  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Thames  at  a  point  near  the  present  Commercial  Docks 
Pier.  But  of  this  latter  branch  no  trace  remains,  whilst 
the  northerly  course  to  the  Thames  is  indicated  by 
various  roads,  such  as  the  Grange  and  the  Neckinger 
Roads.  The  brook  ran  past  Bermondsey  Abbey,  up  to 
the  gates  of  which  it  was  navigable  from  the  Thames. 
The  Grange  Road  took  its  name  from  a  farm  known 
as  the  Grange,  and  here  the  Neckinger  was  spanned  by 
a  bridge.  When  Bermondsey  Abbey  was  destroyed,  a 
number  of  tanneries  were  established  on  the  site,  which 
took  their  water  from  the  Neckinger,  in  connection  with 
which  a  number  of  tidal  ditches,  to  admit  water  from 
the  Thames,  were  cut  in  various  directions.  Near  the 
Upper  Grange  Road  stood  a  windmill,  and  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Neckinger  a  water-mill,  the  owner  of  which  shut 
off  the  tide  when  it  suited  his  purpose,  which  led  to 
frequent  disputes  between  him  and  the  tanners.  But 
in  time  the  latter  sank  artesian  wells,  the  mill  was  driven 
by  steam-power,  and  the  water  of  the  Neckinger  being 
no  longer  required  for  manufacturing  purposes,  the  river 
was  neglected  and  finally  built  over.  The  Neckinger 
Mills  had  been  erected  in  the  last  century  by  a  company 
to  manufacture  paper  from  straw  ;  but,  this  enterprise 
failing,  the  premises  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  leather 
manufacturers.  A  street  to  the  east  of  St.  Saviour's 
Dock,  and  parallel  with  it,  is  still  known  as  Mill  Street. 
There  was  another  bridge  over  the  Neckinger  where 
it  crossed  the  Old  Kent  Road,  near  the  spot  where  the 
Albany  Road  joins  the  latter  road.  It  was  known  as 
Thomas-a- Watering,  from  St.  Thomas,  the  patron  of 
the  dissolved  monastery  or  hospital  of  that  name  in 
South wark.     The  bridge  was  the  most  southern  point 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON         247 

of  the  boundary  of  the  Borough  of  Southwark,  and  in 
ancient  days  the  first  halting-place  out  of  London  on 
the  road  to  Kent.  Chaucer's  pilgrims  passed  it  on  their 
wav  to  the  shrine  of  St.  Thomas-a-Becket  at  Canter- 

J 

bury : 

'  And  forth  we  riden  .  .  . 
Unto  the  watering-place  of  St.  Thomas, 
And  then  our  host  began  his  hors  arrest.' 

Deputations  of  citizens  used  to  go  so  far  to  meet 
royal  or  other  distinguished  personages  who  came  to 
visit  London.  From  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century 
the  spot  was  set  apart  for  executions,  and  numerous  are 
the  records  of  criminals  who  were  hanged  there  until 
about  the  middle  of  the  last  century. 

In  1690  two  very  handsome  Janus  heads — i.e.,  heads 
with  two  faces — were  discovered  near  St.  Thomas-a- 
Watering.  They  were  found  near  two  ancient  piers  of 
a  large  gate — Janus  was  the  God  of  Gates.  One  was 
taken  up  and  set  up  on  a  gardener's  door ;  but  the 
other,  being  embedded  in  quicksand,  from  which  springs 
flowed  out  pretty  freely,  was  left.  Dr.  Woodward,  who 
founded  the  Professorship  of  Geology  in  the  University 
of  Cambridge,  afterwards  purchased  the  head  which  had 
been  saved,  and  added  it  to  his  collection  of  curiosities. 
At  the  beginning  of  this  century  there  was  still  a  brook 
running  across  the  Kent  Road  on  the  spot  mentioned 
above,  with  a  bridge  over  it,  and  the  current  from  the 
Peckham  and  Denmark  hills  was  at  times  so  strong  as 
to  overflow  at  least  two  acres  of  ground.  East  of  the 
Mill  Street  above  mentioned  there  is  a  spot  which  has 
been  rendered  famous  by  Dickens  in  '  Oliver  Twist ' — 
namely,  Jacob's  Island.     As  the  description  he  gives  of 


248  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

it  is  known  to  everyone,  we  need  not  here  repeat  it ;  it 
applies,  partially  only,  to  the  locality  now. 

It  is,  or  to  speak  correctly  was,  a  '  Venice  of  drains.1 
But  it  was  not  always  so ;  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II.  the 
foul,  stagnant  ditch,  which  till  recently  made  an  island 
of  this  pestilential  spot,  was  a  running  stream,  sup- 
plied with  the  waters  which  were  brought  down  in  the 
Neckinger  from  the  southern  hills.  On  its  banks  stood 
the  mills  of  the  monks  of  St.  John  and  St.  Mary, 
dependencies  of  the  Abbey  of  Bermondsey,  which  were 
worked  by  it.  In  those  days  the  neighbourhood  con- 
sisted of  blooming  gardens  and  verdant  meadows.  Close 
to  Jacobs  Island  were  Cupid's  Gardens,  a  kind  of 
Ranelagh  on  a  small  scale,  but  still  a  very  pleasant 
place  of  public  entertainment.  Tanneries,  and  many 
still  more  objectionable  trades  now  carried  on  in  the 
locality,  were  then  undreamt  of. 

Many  of  the  horrors  of  Jacob's  Island  are  now  things 
of  the  past.  The  foul  ditch,  in  whose  black  mud  the 
juveniles  used  to  disport  themselves,  undeterred  by  the 
close  proximity  of  the  unsavoury  carcasses  of  dead  dogs 
and  cats,  is  now  filled  up  and  turned  into  a  solid  road. 
Many  of  the  tumble-down  houses  have  been  pulled 
down — in  fact,  the  romance  of  the  place  is  gone. 

Let  us  proceed  westward  ;  we  come  to  the  once  impor- 
tant Eff'ra,  which  remained  a  running  stream  till  within 
the  sixties,  when  it,  like  others,  became  a  mere  sewer. 
It  rose  in  the  high  grounds  of  Norwood,  and  ran  down 
Croxted  Lane,  till  within  the  last  two  or  three  years  a 
perfectly  rural  retreat ;  at  the  Half  Moon  Inn  at  Heme 
Hill  it  received  an  affluent,  which  rose  between  Streatham 
Hill  and  Knighfs  Hill.    Skirting  the  park  of  Brockwell 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        249 

Hall,  it  ran  along  Water  Lane,  past  the  police-station 
in  the  Brixton  Road.     Here  it  took  a  sharp  turn  to  the 
north,  and  ran  parallel  to  the  Brixton  Road,  access  to 
the  houses  on  the  eastern  side  being  gained  by  little 
bridges,  till  it  reached  St.  Mark's  Church,  where  it  took 
a  sharp  turn  to  the  west.     But  before  reaching  that 
point,  a  branch  of  the  river,  at  a  spot  somewhere  between 
the  present  Clapham  and  South  Lambeth  Roads,  in  what 
used  formerly  to  be  called  Fentimans  Fields,  turned  in 
a  northerly  direction  towards  the  South  Lambeth  Road, 
flowing  through  what  was  then  Caroon  Park,  afterwards 
the  Lawn  Estate,  a  portion  of  which  has  recently  become 
Vauxhall  Park.     The  river  ran  along  the  lane  leading 
by  the  side  of  the  present  Vauxhall  Park  to  the  Crown 
AVorks  of  Messrs.  Higgs  and  Hill,  at  the  corner  of  the 
lane  turning  almost  at  right  angles  up  the  South  Lambeth 
Road  towards  Vauxhall  Cross.     As  in  the  Brixton  Road, 
little  bridges  here  gave  access  to   the  houses  on  the 
eastern  side  of  the  South  Lambeth  Road.     According 
to  an  old  map,  this  branch  of  the  Efrra  sent  off  another 
across  the  South  Lambeth  Road  and  a  Mr.  Freeman's 
land,  lying  between  it  and  the  Kingston  Highway,  as 
the  Wandsworth  Road  was  then  called,  and  thus  reached 
the   Thames.     The    main    stream,    which    we    left    at 
St.  Mark's  Church,  continued  its  course  along  the  south 
side  of  the  Oval,  sending  off  in  a  north-westerly  direc- 
tion a  branch  which  fell  into  a  circular  basin,  probably 
on  the  spot  where  the  great  gas-holders  now  stand  in 
Upper    Kennington    Lane.      It    then    turned    towards 
Vauxhall,  where  it  passed  under  a  bridge,  called  Cox's 
Bridge,  and  fell  into  the  Thames  a  little  northward  of 
Vauxhall  Bridge. 


\ 


250  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

At  Belair,  one  of  the  show-houses  of  Dulwich,  a 
branch  of  the  Effra  ran  through  the  grounds ;  the  Effra 
itself  also  traversed  the  Springfield  Estate  near  Heme 
Hill,  now  given  up  to  the  builders.  The  river  there 
appears  to  have  been  much  wider  than  elsewhere,  and 
in  depth  about  nine  feet,  with  banks  shaded  by  old  trees. 
The  present  writer  remembers  the  Effra  as  a  river,  and 
was  told  by  a  gardener,  now  deceased,  who  had  worked 
on  the  Caroon  Estate,  which  extended  from  the  present 
Dorset  Road  to  the  Oval,  for  more  than  fifty  years,  that 
he  had  often  seen  the  Effra  along  Lawn  Lane  assume 
the  proportions  of  a  river,  wide  and  deep  enough  to 
bear  large  barges,  which  statement  gives  countenance 
to  the  tradition  that  Queen  Elizabeth  frequently  in  her 
barge  visited  Sir  Noel  Caroon,  the  Dutch  Ambassador, 
who  lived  at  Caroon  House,  on  the  site  of  which  stand 
the  mansion  and  factory  of  Mark  Beaufoy,  Esq.,  who  is 
also  the  owner  of  the  Belair  House  above-mentioned. 
Dr.  Montgomery,  sometime  Vicar  of  St.  Mark's,  and 
now  Bishop  of  Tasmania,  in  his  '  History  of  Kennington," 
says  that,  in  1753,  the  whole  space  occupied  by  the 
Oval  and  a  number  of  streets  was  open  meadow  through 
which  the  Effra  meandered  at  will.  It  was  a  sparkling 
river  running  over  a  bright  gravelly  bottom,  and  sup- 
plied fresh  water  to  the  neighbourhood.  A  bridge 
crossed  the  Effra  at  St.  Mark's,  and  was  called  Merton 
Bridge,  from  its  formerly  having  been  repaired  by  the 
Canons  of  Merton  Abbey,  who  had  lands  for  that 
purpose.  Curiously  enough,  the  author  from  whom  we 
take  this,  Thomas  Allen,  in  his  '  History  of  Lambeth,1 
published  in  1827,  when  the  Effra  was  yet  a  running 
stream,  refers  to  it  only  on  the  above  occasion,  when  he 


THE  LOST  RIVERS  OF  LONDON        251 

calls  it  a  '  small   stream."1     '  Et  cest  ainsi  qu'on  ecrit 
rhistoire.'' 

One  more  '  lost  river 1  remains  on  our  list,  the  Falcon 
Brook,  which,  rising  on  the  south  side  of  Balham  Hill, 
flowed  almost  due  north  between  Clapham  and  Wands- 
worth Commons  to  Battersea  Rise,  which  it  crossed, 
after  which  it  turned  sharply  to  the  west,  ran  along 
Lavender  Road,  crossed  the  York  Road,  and  discharged 
itself  into  the  Thames  through  Battersea  Creek,  which 
is  all  that  now  remains  of  the  river,  except  the  under- 
ground sewer  which  represents  its  former  course.  Once 
many  pleasant  villas  stood  on  its  banks ;  at  the  present 
day  the  entire  valley  through  which  it  flowed  is  covered 
by  one  of  the  densest  masses  of  dingy  streets  to  be  seen 
anywhere  near  London.  Nothing  remains  to  recall  even 
its  name,  except  the  Falcon  Road,  and  a  newly-erected 
public-house  which  has  supplanted  the  original  Falcon, 
a  somewhat  rustic  building,  which,  however,  harmonized 
well  with  the  then  surroundings,  which  were  of  a  per- 
fectly rural  aspect,  such  as,  looking  at  the  present  scene, 
we  can  scarcely  realize.  But  it  can  be  seen  in  a  rare 
print  of  the  river,  engraved  by  S.  Rawle,  after  an  original 
drawing  by  J.  Nixon.  He  was  an  artist,  who,  passing 
the  Falcon,  which  was  then  kept  by  a  man  named  Robert 
Death,  saw  a  number  of  undertaker's  men  reo-aling 
themselves  after  a  funeral  on  the  open  space  in  front  of 
the  inn.  They  were  not  only  eating  and  drinking  and 
smoking,  but  indulging  in  various  antics,  endeavouring 
to  make  the  maids  of  the  inn  join  in  their  hilarity. 
This  scene,  and  the  queer  coincidence  of  the  landlord's 
strange  name,  induced  Nixon  to  make  a  sketch  of  it, 
which  was  engraved  and  published  in  1802,  the  following 


252  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

lines  from  Blair's  poem  'The  Grave1  being  added  to 
the  print : 

'  But  see  the  well-plumed  hearse  comes  nodding  on, 
Stately  and  slow,  and  properly  attended 
By  the  whole  sable  tribe,  that  painful  watch 
The  sick  man's  door,  and  live  upon  the  dead, 
By  letting  out  their  persons  by  the  hour 
To  mimic  sorrow,  when  the  heart's  not  sad.' 

A  cantata  was  also  published  about  the  same  time, 
supposed  to  be  sung  by  undertakers'1  merry  men,  to 
celebrate  the  pleasure  and  benefit  of  burying  a  nabob, 
and  drink  to  their 

' .  .  .  next  merry  meeting  and  quackery's  increase  !' 

Here  we  close  our  journey  and  our  records  at  a  funeral. 
Well,  the  finale  is  not  inappropriate.  Have  we  not  been 
attending  the  funerals  of  so  many  gay  and  bright  and 
sparkling,  joyfully  leaping  and  rushing,  and  sometimes 
roaring,  brooks  and  rivers,  descending  from  the  sunny 
hillsides,  finally  to  be  buried  in  dark  and  noisome 
sewers  ?  And  the  lost  river,  alas  !  is  but  too  often  the 
type  of  the  lost  life.  But  moralizing  is  not  in  our  line 
— we  think  it  sad  waste  of  time  ;  it  is  no  better  than 
doctors'  prescriptions.  We  would  rather  remind  the 
reader,  who  in  these  notes  may  miss  elegance  of  style 
and  picturesqueness  of  description,  that  such  qualities 
were  incompatible  with  the  compactness  of  details  the 
space  at  our  command  imposed  upon  us.  Besides,  a 
more  florid  style  must  borrow  something  from  imagina- 
tion ;  but  here  we  had  only  to  deal  with  facts,  and  if 
the  reader  finds  as  much  pleasure  in  studying  as  we  did 
in  collecting  them,  though  the  labour  was  great,  he  will 
not  regret  the  time  bestowed  on  their  perusal. 


XVI. 

ROGUES  ASSORTED. 

ON  Horwood's  Map  of  London,  dated  1799,  just  one 
hundred  years  ago,  there  is  shown  a  road,  starting 
from  Blue  Anchor  Lane,  Bermondsey,  at  almost 
a  right  angle  to  the  latter,  and  running  in  an  easterly 
direction,  but  with  a  considerable  curve  in  it,  and  this 
road  is  called  Rogues-'  Lane.  It  is  more  than  half  a 
mile  long,  perfectly  solitary,  not  a  house  on  or  near  it, 
the  land  around  it  being  a  wild  waste,  and  as  deserted 
as  a  lonely  moor  in  the  recesses  of  Wales  or  Cornwall. 
How  did  this  lane  acquire  its  name  ?  Did  the  in- 
habitants of  the  East  End  of  London  construct  it  as  a 
kind  of  sewer  for  carrying  off  into  the  outlying  wilder- 
ness the  rogues  who  infested  their  streets  ?  or  did  the 
rogues  of  that  day,  openly  or  tacitly  acknowledging 
themselves  to  be  such,  choose  the  lane  as  a  kind  of 
rendezvous,  as  a  sort  of  peripatetic  exchange  for  the 
transaction  of  their  rascally  schemes  ?  The  East  End 
of  London  seems,  indeed,  in  those  days,  to  have  been 
a  favourite  resort  of  rogues — Stepney  had  its  Rogues1 
Well — now  they  prefer  the  West  End.  But  the  rogues 
of  old  were  somewhat  different  from  the  modern  speci- 


254  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

mens ;  they  were  chiefly  thieves,  footpads,  burglars, 
sneaks,  low  cheats,  sham  cripples,  and  such  mean  fry — 
modern  civilization,  with  its  panacea  of  education,  had 
not  yet  asserted  itself.  Culture,  which  licks  all  the 
world  into  shape,  has  even  reached  the  rogues ;  the 
petty  scoundrels  of  old  are  replaced  by  the  magnificent 
swindlers  of  the  present  day,  who  deal  not  in  paltry 
pence,  but  in  weighty  sovereigns — who  do  not  cheat  a 
silly  countryman  out  of  the  few  shillings  his  purse  may 
contain,  but  wheedle  trusting  spinsters  and  mad  and 
greedy  speculators  out  of  thousands  of  pounds.  The 
modern  rogue  is  either  a  promoter  of  bogus  companies, 
or  a  director  who  issues  bogus  shares,  an  embezzling 
bank-manager  or  trustee,  or  a  man  who  lives  far  bevond 
his  means,  even  when  he  knows  that  all  his  available 
assets  are  gone  in  betting,  racing,  and  Stock  Exchange 
speculation,  or  a  fraudulent  bankrupt.  And  there  is 
no  slitting  of  noses,  no  whipping,  not  even  exposure  on 
the  pillory  ominously  looming  at  the  end  of  their  career ; 
when  the  game  is  up,  no  more  cash  to  be  obtained  by 
loans,  and  the  infuriated  creditors  become  troublesome, 
he  attempts  one  more  big  haul,  the  proceeds  of  which, 
if  successful,  he  prudently  settles  on  his  wife,  and  then 
the  unfortunate  victim  of  circumstances,  over  which,  as 
he  pathetically  says,  he  had  no  control,  leisurely  takes 
a  walk  to  Carey  Street,  has  a  comfortable  wash  and 
brush  up  in  the  financial  lavatory  which  hospitably 
stands  open  there,  and  he  comes  out,  thoroughly  white- 
washed and  rid  of  all  importunate  claims  upon  him, 
after  which  he  hires  a  fine  mansion  in  Belgravia,  fares 
sumptuously  every  day,  and  bespatters  with  the  mud  of 
his  chariot-wheels  the  deluded  shareholders  and  trades- 


ROGUES  ASSORTED  255 

people  whom  his  wily  schemes  have  ruined.  It  is  all, 
or  nearly  all,  the  outcome  of  modern  education,  which, 
by  ramming  notions  totally  unsuited  to  the  minds  and 
characters  under  tuition  into  juvenile  minds,  bears  such 
bitter  fruit.  But  educational  cranks  have  it  all  their 
own  way  now,  though  it  is  wrong  to  call  them  '  educa- 
tional ';  they  fancy  that  education  means  '  cramming,1 
never  mind  whether  the  food  is  assimilated  with  the 
body,  whilst  education  really  means  the  very  opposite — 
namely,  a  drawing  out,  not  a  putting  in  :  a  drawing 
out  of  the  hidden  properties  of  mind  and  character. 
But  let  us  come  to  our  theme — the  London  rogues  of 
old ;  their  evil  deeds  were  done  long  ago,  and  will  there- 
fore not  rile  as  does  the  rascality  we  see  around  us  now. 
We  will  take  the  beggars  first :  not  all  beggars  are 
rogues,  but  the  majority  are.  They  fared  variously 
under  various  Kings ;  some  protected,  some  persecuted 
them.  Strange  it  is  that,  under  the  juvenile,  gentle 
Edward  VI.,  one  of  the  most  severe  laws  was  passed 
against  them  :  a  servant  absenting  himself  for  three 
days  or  more  from  his  work  was  to  be,  on  his  re-capture, 
marked  with  a  hot  iron  with  the  letter  V  (vagabond), 
and  be  his  master's  slave  for  two  years,  and  fed  on  bread 
and  water ;  should  he  run  away  again,  he  was,  on  being 
caught,  to  be  marked  on  his  forehead  or  cheek  with  a 
hot  iron  with  the  letter  S  (slave),  and  be  his  master's 
slave  for  life  ;  for  a  third  escape  the  punishment  was 
death.  This  diabolical  law  was  repealed  two  years  after. 
Under  Elizabeth  sturdy  beggars  were  whipped  till  the 
blood  came.  James  I.  rather  sympathized  with  them  ; 
he,  like  them,  always  was  in  need  of  '  siller.'  Hence  the 
country,  and  especially  London,  swarmed  with  rogues 


256  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

of  every  description,  known  by  various  cant  terms,  such 
as  Rufflers,  Upright  Men,  Hookers,  Rogues,  Pallyards, 
Abraham  Men,  Traters,  Freshwater  Mariners  or  Whip- 
jacks,  Dommerars,  Swadders,  Bawdy  Baskets,  Doxies, 
with  many  other  names  of  the  same  slang  category  ; 
and,  of  course,  the  object  of  all  the  members  of  these 
various  associations  was  to  cheat  the  unwary  and 
charitable.  In  course  of  time  some  of  these  terms  went 
out  of  use — the  cant  of  rogues  is  always  on  the  move — 
but  new  ones  took  their  places ;  and,  in  spite  of  all  the 
laws  passed  against  them,  beggars  continued  to  flourish. 
In  1728  a  spirited  presentment  to  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench  was  made  by  the  Grand  Jury  of  Middlesex  against 
the  unusual  swarms  of  sturdy  and  clamorous  beggars, 
as  well  as  the  many  frightful  objects  exposed  in  the 
streets ;  and,  the  nuisance  not  abating,  a  similar  pre- 
sentment was  made  in  1741,  with  the  same  unsatisfactory 
result.  And  as  long  as  there  are  people  who  will  not, 
and  people  who  cannot,  work,  and  as  long  as  there  are 
thoughtless  people  who  will  indiscriminately  give  alms, 
beggars  will  infest  our  streets.  Referring  to  such,  Sir 
Richard  Phillips,  in  his  '  Morning's  Walk  from  London 
to  Kew1  (1820),  tells  us  that  the  passage  from  Charing 
Cross  to  St.  James's  Park  through  Spring  Gardens  was 
a  favourite  haunt  of  beggars.  Says  he  :  '  A  blind  woman 
was  brought  to  her  post  by  a  little  boy,  who,  carelessly 
leading  her  against  the  step  of  a  door,  she  gave  him  a 
smart  box  on  the  ear,  and  exclaimed,  "  Damn  you,  you 
rascal  !  can't  you  mind  what  you  are  about  ?"  and  then, 
leaning  her  back  against  the  wall,  in  the  same  breath 
she  began  to  chaunt  a  hymn.'  Even  now  you  may  hear 
a  psalm-singing  woman,  who   has  hired  two  or  three 


ROGUES  ASSORTED  257 

children  to  render  the  show  more  effective,  when  these 
get  weary,  growl,  in  a  hoarse  whisper  between  her 
Hallelujahs,  '  Sing  out,  ye  devils  f  The  Rookery  in 
St.  Giles's,  demolished  to  make  room  for  New  Oxford 
Street,  was  the  very  paradise  of  beggars.  They  there 
held  an  annual  carnival,  to  which  Major  Hanger  on 
one  occasion  accompanied  George  IV.,  when  still  Prince 
of  Wales.  The  chairman,  addressing  the  company,  and 
pointing  to  the  Prince,  said  :  '  I  call  upon  that  "ere 
gemman  with  a  shirt  for  a  song.1  The  Prince  got 
excused  on  his  friend  agreeing  to  sing  for  him,  who 
then  sang  a  ballad  called  '  The  Beggar's  Wedding  ;  or, 
the  Jovial  Crew,*1  with  great  applause.  The  beggars 
drank  his  health,  and  he  and  the  Prince  soon  after 
managed  to  make  good  their  retreat. 

Among  the  most  infamous  rogues  of  the  last  century 
were  men  of  the  Jonathan  Wild  stamp — agents  provo- 
cateurs, as  we  should  now  style  them — who  not  only 
led  people  into  crime,  but  shared  the  proceeds  of  it 
with  the  felons ;  nay,  worse,  they  got  persons  who  were 
quite  innocent  convicted,  by  perjured  witnesses,  of  crimes 
which  had  never  been  committed.  It  was  practices  like 
these  which  at  last  brought  Jonathan  Wild  himself  to 
the  scaffold. 

The  tricks  of  rogues  change  their  names,  but  remain 
the  same ;  what  is  now  known  as  the  '  confidence  trick,1 
which,  though  it  has  been  exposed  in  police-courts  and 
reported  in  the  press  thousands  of  times,  even  in  our 
day  finds  ready  victims,  was  formerly  called  'coney- 
catching,"1  and  there  were  generally  three  confederates — 
the  Setter,  the  Verser,  and  the  Barnacle.  The  Setter, 
strolling  along  the  Strand,  Fleet  Street,  or  Hoi  born,  on 

17 


258  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  look-out  for  flats,  on  espying  a  coney,  whom  his 
dress  and  general  appearance  pronounced  to  be  a  man 
from  the  country,  would  make  up  to  him,  and,  as  a  rule, 
quickly  find  out  what  county  he  came  from,  his  name, 
and  other  particulars.  If  he  could  not  induce  him  to 
have  a  drink  with  him,  he  would  manage  to  convey  to 
his  confederate,  the  Verser,  close  by,  the  information 
gained,  whereupon  the  Verser  would  suddenly  come  upon 
the  countryman,  salute  him  by  his  name,  and  ask  after 
friends  in  the  country.  He  proclaimed  himself  the  near 
kinsman  of  some  neighbour  of  the  coney,  and  asserted 
to  have  been  in  the  latter's  house  several  times.  The 
countryman,  though  he  could  not  remember  these  visits, 
was  yet  taken  unawares,  and  readily  accepted  the  invita- 
tion to  have  a  drink.  They  then  induced  him  to  play 
at  cards,  and  soon  left  him  as  bare  of  money  as  an  ape 
is  of  a  tail,  for  in  those  days  coney-catching  was  practised 
by  the  assistance  of  a  pack  of  cards.  But  if  all  these 
lures  were  wasted  on  the  coney,  the  Setter  or  Verser  would 
drop  a  shilling  in  the  street,  so  that  the  coney  must  see 
it  fall,  when  he  would  naturally  pick  it  up,  whereupon 
one  of  the  confederates  would  cry  out,  '  Half-part  f  and 
claim  half  the  find.  The  countryman  would  readily 
agree  to  exchange  the  money,  but  the  Setter  or  Verser 
would  say,  '  Nay,  friend ;  it  is  unlucky  to  keep  found 
money,1  and  the  farce  would  end  in  the  money  being 
spent  in  drink  at  a  tavern ;  then  cards  would  be  called 
for,  and  the  coney  induced  to  take  an  interest  in  them 
by  being  initiated  into  a  new  game  called  '  mum-chance,-1 
at  which  he  was  allowed  to  win  money.  While  so 
engaged,  the  door  would  be  opened  by  a  stranger,  the 
Barnacle,  who,  on  seeing  the  players,  would  say,  '  Excuse 


ROGUES  ASSORTED  250 

me,  gentlemen  :  1  thought  a  friend  of  mine  was  here.1 
The  stranger  would  be  invited  to  have  a  glass  of  wine, 
and  join  in  the  game,  which  he  would  readily  do,  '  to 
oblige  the  company';  and  the  end  would  be  that  the 
coney,  after  having  been  allowed  to  win  for  some  time, 
would  gradually  begin  to  lose  his  money,  then  his  watch, 
or  any  other  valuables  he  might  have  about  him,  and 
finally  be  left  with  no  property  but  the  clothes  he  was 
standing  up  in.  This,  as  we  have  stated,  was  called 
'  coney -catching,'  or  '  coney -catching  law?  for  those 
rogues  possessed  a  great  regard  for  law ;  all  their 
practices  went  by  the  name  of  '  law ' — '  high  law '  meant 
highway  robbery  ;  '  cheating  law,1  playing  with  false 
dice ;  '  versing  law,1  the  passing  of  bad  gold  ;  '  figging 
law,1  the  cutting  of  purses. 

Vagrants  and  tramps  in  those  days  called  themselves 
by  the  more  dignified  appellation  of  'cursitors1;  and 
the  counterfeiter  of  epilepsy  was  a  '  counterfeit  crank ' ; 
money-dropping  and  ring-dropping  were  even  then  old 
tricks  of  cozenage.  Those  who  are  acquainted  with  the 
modern  way  of  coney-catching,  or  the  confidence  trick — 
and  who  is  not  that  lives  in  London  ? — will  know  that  the 
trick  is  now  much  simplified,  and  yields  much  quicker 
and  more  satisfactory  results — to  the  rogues.  And 
though,  as  we  mentioned  above,  the  trick  has  been 
exposed  over  and  over  again,  new  fools  are  found  every 
day  to  go  into  the  trap.  In  fact,  all  the  old  rogueries 
flourish  at  the  present  time,  besides  a  few  new  ones 
invented  in  this  century.  The  holders  of  sham  auctions ; 
the  horse-makers,  who,  by  means  of  drugs  and  other 
devices,  make  old  horses  look  as  good  as  new  till  they 
are  sold ;  the  free  foresters,  who  during  the  night  rob 

17—2 


260  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

suburban  gardens  of  roots  and  flowers,  and  sell  them 
next  day  off  their  barrows,  all  'a-growing  and  a-blowing1; 
the  dog  stealers ;  the  beer  and  spirit  doctors,  who 
double  and  treble  Master  Bung's  stock  by  vile  adultera- 
tion ;  the  sellers  of  established  businesses,  which  never 
had  any  actual  existence — all  these  are  types  of  vener- 
able institutions  which  survive  to  this  day,  and  not  only 
survive,  but  flourish  in  everlasting  youth.  The  racing, 
betting  and  Stock  Exchange  swindles  perform  their 
eternal  merry-go-round,  as  they  did  when  first  started 
several  centuries  ago,  and  the  home  employment  decep- 
tion still  draws  the  last  shillings  from  the  purses  of 
poor  people.  And  in  most  cases,  unfortunately,  the 
law  is  powerless  to  reach  the  rogues ;  our  foolish 
humanitarianism,  the  interests  of  trade,  the  freedom  of 
the  subject  to  contract,  the  technicalities  and  quibbles 
of  legislative  acts,  and  the  uncertainty  as  to  their 
meaning,  are  at  the  bottom  of  all  this  failure  of  justice. 
We  ought  to  cease  prating  about  the  dignity  of  man — 
as  if  there  were  any  dignity  in  such  paltry  rogues  ! — 
and  return,  perhaps  in  a  modified  form,  to  the  drastic 
remedies  of  our  forefathers,  who  retaliated  on  those 
who  made  their  neighbour  suffer  in  health  or  in  purse 
by  inflicting  on  them  bodily  pain  and  personal  disgrace, 
and  not  merely  fining  them,  as  is  the  custom  with  us. 
In  the  'Memorials  of  London  and  London  Life,1  ex- 
tracted from  the  City  Archives,  and  extending  from  the 
years  1272  to  1419,  will  be  found  between  twenty  and 
thirty  condemnations  to  the  pillory,  the  stocks,  im- 
prisonment, and  being  drawn  through  the  city  on  a 
hurdle,  for  deficiency  of  weight  in  bread,  coals,  etc.,  for 
false   measure,  for  enhancing  the  price    of  wheat,  for 


ROGUES  ASSORTED  261 

swindling,  such  as  selling  brass  rings  and  chains  for 
gold,  for  selling  false  bowstrings,  putrid  meat,  fowls  and 
fish,  and  in  these  latter  cases  the  articles  condemned 
were  burnt  under  the  noses  of  the  culprits,  as  they  stood 
in  the  pillory.  Even  women  had  to  undergo  the 
punishment  of  the  pillory,  one  specially  constructed  for 
them  being:  used  on  such  occasions ;  it  was  called  the 
thewe. 

At  the  commencement  we  referred  to  a  Rogues1  Lane 
at  Bermondsey,  but  there  was  another  lane  of  that 
name  in  the  very  centre  of  London,  Shire  Lane,  which 
was  close  to  Temple  Bar,  and  pulled  down  when  room 
had  to  be  made  for  the  new  Law  Courts.  The  Kit-Kat 
Club  held  its  meetings  in  that  lane ;  but  in  spite  of  the 
dukes  and  lords  frequenting  that  club,  the  lane  never 
was  considered  respectable,  and  in  the  days  of  James  I- 
was  known  as  Rogues'  Lane,  it  being  then  the  resort  of 
persons  coming  under  that  denomination.  In  the  Bible 
public-house — a  printers1  house  of  call — there  was  a 
room  with  a  trap  in  it,  by  which  Jack  Sheppard,  who 
used  the  house,  could  drop  into  a  subterranean  passage 
which  led  to  Bell  Yard.  The  Angel  and  Crown, 
another  public-house  in  the  same  lane,  was  the  scene  of 
the  murder  of  a  Mr.  Quarrington,  for  which  Thomas 
Carr  and  Elizabeth  Adams  were  hanged  at  Tyburn. 
One  night  a  man  was  robbed,  thrown  downstairs  and 
killed  in  one  of  the  dens  of  Rogues1  Lane.  Nos.  13 
and  14  were  bad  houses;  Nos.  9,  10  and  11,  where 
thieves  used  to  meet,  was  known  as  '  Cadgers1  Hall ' ; 
Nos.  1,  2  and  3  were  houses  of  ill-fame,  and  there  existed 
a  communication  with  the  house  No.  242,  Strand, 
through    which   the   thieves    used   to   escape   after    ill- 


262  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

treating  their  victims.  In  Ship  Yard,  close  to  Shire 
Lane,  there  stood  a  block  of  houses  which  were  let  out 
to  vagrants,  thieves,  sharpers,  smashers  and  other  dis- 
reputable characters.  Throughout  the  vaults  of  this 
rookery  there  existed  a  continuous  passage,  so  that  easy 
access  could  be  obtained  from  one  to  the  other,  facilitating 
escape  or  concealment  in  the  case  of  pursuit.  The  end 
house  of  this  block  was  selected  for  the  manufacture  of 
bad  coin,  and  was  known  as  the  '  Smashing  Lumber.1 
Every  room  had  its  secret  trap  or  panel,  and  from  the 
upper  story,  which  was  the  workshop,  there  was  a  draft 
connected  with  the  cellar,  to  which  the  base  coin  could 
be  lowered  in  case  of  surprise. 

It  is  astonishing,  and  shows  us  the  hollowness  of  the 
pretence  to  civilization  and  decency  set  up  on  behalf  of 
the  velvet-dressed,  lace  and  gold-bedizened  aristocrats 
of  those  days,  that  persons,  not  only  of  respectability, 
but  of  rank  and  title,  could  live  in  such  close  quarters 
with  thieves  and  vagabonds  of  the  lowest  grade.  Yet, 
as  already  mentioned,  the  Kit-Kats  had  their  club  in 
Shire  Lane;  in  1603  there  was  living  in  it  Sir  Arthur 
Atie,  in  early  life  secretary  to  the  Earl  of  Leicester; 
Elias  Ashmole  also  inhabited  the  lane,  so  did  Hoole, 
the  translator  of  Tasso,  and  James  Perry,  the  editor 
of  the  Morning  Chronicle,  who  died  worth  £1 30,000. 

London  in  the  last  century,  and  even  in  this,  was  full 
of  retreats  for  criminals.  The  demolition  of  West 
Street,  formerly  Chick  Lane,  and  of  Field  Lane,  so 
recent  as  to  be  still  fresh  in  the  memory  of  living 
persons,  brought  many  of  them  to  light.  The  Dog,  a 
low  public-house  in  Drury  Lane,  was  known  as  the 
'  Robbers1  Den 1 ;  in  fact,  the  whole  street  had  a  bad 


ROGUES  ASSORTED  263 

reputation,  and  is  even  now  a  disgrace  to  London.  But 
beside  these  private  retreats,  the  rogues  and  villains  of 
the  past  had  their  public  refuges,  where  even  the  officers 
of  the  law  had  to  leave  them  unmolested — the  sanctuaries 
at  Westminster,  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  St.  MartinVle- 
Grand,  Whitefriars  and  the  Mint,  and  Montague  Close 
in  Southwark,  some  of  which  retained  their  privileges 
to  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  The  name  Sanctuary, 
still  given  to  a  certain  spot  near  Westminster  Abbey, 
commemorates  the  actual  sanctuary  formerly  existing  in 
that  locality,  and  the  narrow  street  called  Thieving 
Lane,  now  demolished,  received  that  name  because 
thieves,  on  their  way  to  Gate  House  Prison,  were  taken 
through  it,  to  prevent  their  escape  into  the  sanctuary. 

It  is  said  that  when  rogues  fall  out  honest  men  come 
to  their  own  again.  Yes,  when  their  'own'  is  still  corae- 
atable,  but  as  a  rule  it  is  not ;  rogues  seldom  keep  what 
they  gain  by  trickery — lightly  earned,  lightly  spent  is 
the  rule  with  them.  Rogues  are  as  great  fools  as  are 
the  fools  they  cheat,  and  the  fools  at  heart  are  rogues 
too,  without  the  wit  of  the  rogues.  The  fool  who  is 
done  out  of  his  money  or  other  property  by  trusting  a 
perfect  stranger  is  so  done  because  he  fancies  himself 
more  clever  than  the  cheat,  and  hopes  to  beat  him. 
The  victim  scarcely  deserves  any  pity,  for  it  is  only  a 
case  of  diamond  cut  diamond.  And  unfortunately,  as 
we  intimated  above,  honest  men  do  not  come  to  their 
own  again,  when  rogues  fall  out,  or  are  detected.  The 
rogue  who  has  cheated  a  commercial  firm  out  of  goods 
to  the  value  of  thousands  of  pounds,  which  he  imme- 
diately pawns  for  half  they  are  worth,  rushes  off  to 
a  turf  tipster  or  bookie,  and  though  his  betting  turns 


264  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

out  lucky,  he  cannot  get  his  winnings  from  the  said 
bookie,  who  resists  payment  on  the  plea  that  the  trans- 
action was  illegal.  The  rogues  fall  out,  a  lawsuit  is  the 
result,  the  speculator  loses  his  case,  but  the  firm  do  not 
get  their  money ;  that  is  irretrievably  gone.  Plenty  of 
such  cases  happened  hundreds  of  years  ago,  and  continue 
to  happen  to  the  present  day,  and  there  are  various 
resorts  in  the  City  and  West  End  of  London  where  it 
might  truthfully  be  written  up,  Si  sceleratos  quceris, 
circumspice ! 


XVII. 
BARS  AND  BARRISTERS. 

THE  profession  of  a  barrister  is  a  curious  one. 
Theoretically,  he  is  the  champion  and  protector 
of  right  and  justice ;  but,  practically,  he  often 
is  but  the  hired  advocate  of  wrong  and  injustice.  It  is 
only  when  he  has  attained  high  distinction  at  the  Bar 
that  he  can,  like  Serjeant  Ballantine,  be  independent 
enough  to  say  that  he  will  undertake  no  case  of  the 
justice  of  which  he  is  not  fully  satisfied.  True,  counsel 
is  assumed  to  base  his  arguments  on  behalf  of  his  client 
on  the  instructions  he  receives  from  the  solicitor  who 
employs  him ;  yet  he,  counsel,  having  had  a  legal  educa- 
tion, and  practice,  too,  cannot  fail  to  see  the  weak 
points,  supposing  there  are  any,  in  the  case  before  him, 
and  the  evidence  adduced  in  examination  and  cross- 
examination  must  very  soon  satisfy  him  as  to  the  real 
merits  of  his  case ;  hence  we  often  see  counsel  throwing 
up  his  brief.  It  is  related  in  Laud's  Diary  that,  when 
he  was  standing  one  day  near  his  unfortunate  master, 
then  Prince  Charles,  the  Prince  said  that,  if  necessity 
compelled  him  to  choose  any  particular  profession,  he 
could  not  be  a  lawver,  '  for,'  said  he,  '  I  could  neither 


266  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

defend  a  bad  cause,  nor  yield  in  a  good  one.1  By  the 
Roman  laws  every  advocate  was  required  to  swear  that 
he  would  not  undertake  a  cause  which  he  knew  to  be 
unjust,  and  that  he  would  abandon  a  defence  which 
he  should  discover  to  be  supported  by  falsehood  and 
iniquity.  This  is  continued  in  Holland  at  this  day, 
and  if  an  advocate  brings  forward  a  cause  there  which 
appears  to  the  court  plainly  to  be  iniquitous,  he  is 
condemned  in  the  costs  of  the  suit ;  and  if,  in  con- 
sequence of  this,  a  cause,  just  in  itself,  should  not  be 
able  to  find  a  defender  because  of  some  strong1  and 
general  prejudice  concerning  it,  the  court  has  authority 
to  appoint  a  counsel. 

The  universal  opinion  that  advocates  are  ready  to 
support  injustice  for  the  sake  of  gain— that  they  will 
undertake  more  work  than  they  can  possibly  attend  to 
— is  of  very  ancient  date.  The  Lord  Keeper  Puckering 
directing  attention  to  the  grasping  habits  which  too 
frequently  disgraced  the  leaders  of  the  Bar,  observed : 
'  I  am  to  exhort  you  also  not  to  embrace  multitude  of 
causes,  or  to  undertake  more  places  of  hearing  causes, 
than  you  are  well  able  to  consider  of  or  perform,  lest 
thereby  you  either  disappoint  your  clients,  when  their 
causes  be  heard,  or  come  unprovided,  or  depart  when 
their  causes  be  in  hearing.'  That  the  administration 
of  justice  is  much  improved  in  modern  days  is  sufficiently 
proved  by  the  fact  that  now  no  judge  would  be  allowed, 
as  he  was  in  the  closing  years  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
to  give  opinions  for  money  to  his  private  clients,  although 
he  was  forbidden  to  take  gold  or  silver  from  any  person 
having  '  plea  or  process  hanging  before  him.1 

It  is,  in  fact,  still  a  moot  point,  and,  we  suppose, 


BARS  AND  BARRISTERS  267 

always  will  be,  what  lengths  an  advoeate  may  go  to, 
consistently   with  truth  and  honour,  in    pleading  the 
cause  of  a  client  whom  he  knows  to  be  guilty.     The 
conduct  of  Charles  Phillipps,  in  defending  Courvoisier, 
has  always  been  condemned.     Courvoisier  did  not  confess 
his  guilt  to  his  counsel,  but  admitted  to  him  that  he 
had  made  away  with  some  plate  from  Lord  William 
Russell's   house   immediately  after  the  murder.     This 
was  damning  evidence,  but  the  communication  was  made 
by  the  prisoner  not  to  admit  his  guilt,  but  merely  to 
prepare  his  counsel  to  deal  with  the  evidence.     But 
Phillipps  made  a  remark  in  his  speech  which  the  Bar 
considered  as  unjustifiable.     He  said  :  '  Supposing  him 
to  be  guilty  of  the  murder,  which  is  known  to  God 
Almighty  alone,  I  hope,  for  the  sake  of  his  eternal  soul, 
he  is  innocent.1     These  words  were  not  only  in  bad  taste, 
but  conveyed  a  positive  falsehood.     Counsel's  part  is  to 
lay  before  the  jury  possibilities,  and  not  his  own  opinion 
of  the   prisoner's   guilt    or  innocence ;    and  a  strange 
feature  of  the  etiquette  of  the  Bar  is  that  if  counsel  is 
prepared  to  throw  up  his  brief  because  he  sees  his  cause 
to  be  bad,  yet  he  is  bound,  after  accepting  the  retainer, 
to  continue  defending  the  case  if  his  client  insists  on  his 
doing  so.     He  may  then  be  compelled  to  go  on  arguing 
on  behalf  of  a  man  whom  he  knows  to  be  a  thorough 
scoundrel. 

Barristers  were  first  appointed  by  Edward  I.  about 
1291,  but  there  is  an  earlier  mention  of  professional 
advocates  in  England,  who  were  of  various  ranks,  as 
King's  or  Queen's  Counsel,  Serjeants,  etc.  At  more 
recent  dates  we  read  of  utter  or  outer  and  inner 
barristers ;   these  terms   appear  to  have  been  derived 


268  LOxNDON  SOUVENIRS 

from  local  arrangements  in  the  halls  of  the  Inns  of 
Court.  In  the  public  meetings  held  in  these  halls,  the 
benchers  and  readers — superior  to  barristers — occupying 
the  dais,  which  was  separated  by  a  bar,  some  of  the 
hamsters  who  had  attained  a  certain  standing  were 
called  from  the  body  of  the  hall  to  the  bar — that  is, 
to  the  first  place  outside  the  bar — for  the  purpose  of 
arguing  doubtful  questions  and  cases,  whence  they  prob- 
ably obtained  the  name  of  outer  barristers.  The  course 
of  legal  education  consisted  principally  of  readings  and 
mootings.  The  readings  were  expositions  of  important 
statutes.  These  readings  being  accompanied  by  costly 
entertainments,  especially  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  their  original 
object  was  forgotten  in  the  splendour  of  the  tables, 
for  which  the  benchers  were  severely  reprimanded  by 
Charles  I.  The  readings  were  eventually  suspended, 
but  were  revived  about  1796.  Mootings  were  questions 
on  doubtful  points  of  law,  argued  between  certain  of 
the  benchers  and  barristers  in  the  hall.  There  was  also 
another  exercise  in  the  Inns  of  Court,  called  'bolting1 
— not  gastronomically — which  was  a  private  arguing  of 
cases  by  some  of  the  students  and  barristers.  The  term 
was  probably  derived  from  'bolter,''  a  sieve,  with  reference 
to  the  sifting  of  cases. 

As  to  the  fees  paid  to  barristers,  how  they  have 
altered !  In  1500  the  Corporation  of  Canterbury  paid 
for  advice  regarding  their  civic  interests  3s.  4d.  to  each 
of  three  Serjeants,  and  gave  the  Recorder  of  London 
6s.  8d.  as  a  retaining-fee.  Five  years  later  Mr.  Serjeant 
Wood  received  a  fee  of  10s.  from  the  Goldsmiths' 
Company.  In  the  sixteenth  century  it  was  customary 
for  clients  to  provide  food  and  drink  for  their  counsel. 


BARS  AND  BARRISTERS  269 

i   bill    c 
find 


In   a   bill    of  costs   in   the   reign  of  Edward   IV.   we 


s.  d. 
For  a  breakfast  at  Westminster  to  our  counsel  .  1  6 
To  another  time  for  boat  hire  and  breakfast       .     1     6 

In  like  manner  the  accountant  of  St.  Margaret's,  West- 
minster, entered  in  the  parish  books :  '  Paid  to  Roger 
Fylpott,  learned  in  the  law,  for  his  counsel  given,  3s.  8d., 
with  4d.  for  his  dinner." 

In  Elizabeth's  reign,  and  during  the  time  of  her 
successors,  barristers''  fees  showed  a  tendency  to  increase. 
Counsel  then  received  20s.  fees,  though  10s.  was  the  usual 
fee.  A  ten-shilling  piece  was  then  called  an  'angel,"1 
whence  arose  the  witty  saying  :  '  A  barrister  is  like 
Balaam's  ass,  only  speaking  when  he  sees  the  angel.' 
When  Francis  Bacon  was  created  King's  Counsel  to 
James  I.,  an  annual  salary  of  i?40  was  assigned  to  him  ; 
but  at  present  the  status  of  a  Q.C.  is  simply  an  affair  of 
professional  precedence,  to  which  no  fixed  emolument  is 
attached.  But  Francis  Bacon,  though  he  received  as 
his  official  salary  £i0  only,  made  =£6,000  in  his  pro- 
fession ;  other  King's  Counsel  earned  even  larger  sums 
in  fees.  But  the  barristers  were  not  all  greedy.  In  the 
days  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  professional  etiquette  per- 
mitted clients  and  counsel  to  hold  intercourse  without 
the  intervention  of  an  attorney.  When  those  who  came 
to  Hale  for  his  advice  gave  him  a  sovereign,  he  used  to 
return  half,  saying  his  fee  was  10s.  When  appointed 
arbitrator,  he  would  take  no  fees,  because,  as  he  said, 
he  acted  in  the  capacity  of  a  judge,  and  a  judge  should 
take  no  money.  If  he  took  bad  money,  as  he  often  did, 
he  would  not  pass  it  on  again,  but  kept  it  by  him.     At 


270  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

last  he  had  a  great  heap  of  it,  and  his  house  being  once 
entered  by  burglars,  this  accumulation  of  bad  money 
attracted  their  attention,  and  they  carried  it  off  in 
preference  to  other  valuables,  fancying  that  this  must 
be  the  lawyer's  hoarded  treasure. 

Readers  who  wish  to  know  in  what  estimation  lawyers 
were  held  in  the  seventeenth  century  should  study  the 
pamphlets  and  broadsides  of  the  Commonwealth,  which 
show  how  universal  was  the  belief  that  wearers  of  ermine 
and  gentlemen  of  the  long  robe  would  practise  any  sort 
of  fraud  or  extortion  for  the  sake  of  personal  advantage. 
How  happy  we  are  to  live  in  this  century,  when  the 
legal  profession  is  in  a  state  of  high  purification !  It 
does,  indeed,  sometimes  surprise  an  outsider  that  so 
many  barristers  should  be  necessary  to  carry  through 
one  case — it  looks  as  if  they  were  brought  in  merely  for 
the  benefit  of  the  lawyers ;  but,  in  justice  to  the  pro- 
fession, let  us  say  that  this  is  not  so.  Barristers  have 
their  special  gifts,  and  a  long  and  involved  case  brings 
them  all  into  play  to  the  advantage  of  the  client.  One 
man  has  unrivalled  powers  of  statement ;  another  is 
sound  in  law ;  another  excels  in  cross-examination ; 
another  in  reply ;  another  has  the  ear  of  the  court,  or 
is  all-persuasive  with  the  j  ury.  A  barrister,  to  be  success- 
ful at  the  Bar,  needs,  indeed,  many  qualifications.  Lord 
Brougham  states  that  Mansfield's  powers  as  an  advocate 
were  great ;  he  possessed  an  almost  surpassing  sweetness 
of  voice,  and  it  was  said  that  his  story  was  worth  other 
men's  arguments,  so  clear  and  skilful  were  his  statements. 
Concerning  Lord  Erskine,  another  famous  debater  in 
the  forensic  lists,  juries  declared  that  they  felt  it  im- 
possible to  remove  their  looks  from  him  when  he  had 


BARS  AND  BARRISTERS  271 

riveted  and,  as  it  were,  fascinated  them  by  his  first 
o-lance:  and  it  used  to  be  a  common  remark  of  men, 
who  observed  his  motions,  that  they  resembled  those  of 
a  blood-horse — as  light,  as  limber,  as  much  betokening 
strength  as  speed.  His  voice  was  of  surpassing  sweet- 
ness, clear,  flexible,  strong,  less  fitted,  indeed,  to  express 
indignation  or  scorn  than  pathos.  Lord  Sandwich, 
First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty,  having  brought  an  action 
for  libel  against  persons  who  had  charged  him  with 
having  appointed  landsmen  as  Greenwich  pensioners  to 
serve  his  own  electioneering  purposes,  Erskine  undertook 
the  defence,  and  such  was  the  effect  of  his  speech  that, 
before  he  left  the  court,  thirty  retainers  were  presented 
to  him.  Fortune  comes  to  those  who  can  wait.  Lord 
Ellenborough  first  distinguished  himself  as  the  leading 
counsel  for  Warren  Hastings,  and  soon  after  rose  to 
the  head  of  the  Northern  Circuit ;  Lord  Brougham 
attained  his  subsequent  position  by  his  defence  of 
Queen  Caroline. 

But  counsel  must  not  only  be  able  to  expound  his  case 
clearly,  bringing  into  prominence  all  its  favourable  points, 
and  effacing  or  putting  out  of  sight  all  those  of  an 
opposite  character,  but  he  must  also  be  observant  and 
quick  enough  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  to  take 
advantage  of  any  rift  in  his  opponent's  flute,  of  any 
weakness  in  his  argument ;  he  must  be  sharp  in  dealing 
with  the  plaintiff,  supposing  he  is  for  the  defendant, 
and  especially  so  with  his  witnesses.  He  should,  in  civil 
cases,  by  skilful  cross-questioning,  entrap  the  principal 
or  his  witnesses  into  damaging  admissions  and  contra- 
dictions. The  following  case,  if  not  vero,  is  ben  trovato 
to  illustrate  our  meaning.     A  man  brought  an  action 


272  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

against  a  coach  proprietor,  for  having  by  the  careless- 
ness of  the  lattei-1s  servants  suffered  bodily  hurt,  to  wit, 
been  thrown  from  the  coach  on  to  the  ground,  the 
hind  wheels  of  which  passed  over  his  body,  and  in j  ured 
his  chest  and  lungs.  In  his  examination-in-chief  he 
testified  to  these  facts.  Then  the  defendant's  counsel 
took  him  in  hand.  As  the  plaintiff  was  about  to  leave 
the  box,  '  One  moment,  my  friend,1  said  counsel  quite 
blandly.  'According  to  the  evidence  you  have  just 
given,  you  obviously  have  suffered  much ;  your  voice  is 
gone,  you  say  ? 1 

'  Yes,  sir ;  I  cannot  speak  above  a  whisper/ 

*  Very  sad.  The  coach,  you  say,  gave  a  sudden  lurch 
backwards,  and  thus  threw  you  off  the  hind  seat  under 
the  coach  wheels  ?  Were  you  sitting  or  standing  just 
then  T 

'  Well,  I  was  standing  up  just  then.1 
'  What  made  you  stand  up  whilst  the  coach  was  in 
motion  P1 

'  Well,  you  would  have  stood  up  had  you  been  there.1 

*  Just  answer  my  question  ;  never  mind  what  I  should 
have  done.1 

' 1  don't  know  why  I  should  answer  this  question.1 

The  judge  pointed  out  to  him  that  he  must  answer  it. 

'  Well,  I  wanted  to  look  at  a  pretty  girl  who  had 
passed  the  coach  ;  you  would  have  done  so.1 

'  Possibly.1  Counsel  might  have  given  him  a  sharper 
reply,  but  he  did  not  want  to  lose  his  hold  over 
the  witness  by  riling  him.  So  he  went  on :  '  Pos- 
sibly. And  then,  like  the  gallant  gentleman  you  are, 
you  kissed  your  hand  to  the  lady,  and  then  the  accident 
happened  T 


BARS  AND  BARRISTERS  273 

4  That's  about  it,'  innocently  replied  the  plaintiff. 

'  That's  how  it  happened,1  said  counsel,  turning  to 
the  jury. 

And  then,  turning  to  the  plaintiff  again :  '  And  the 
coach-wheels  passing  over  you  broke  no  bones,  but 
ruined  your  voice,  which  we  all  can  hear  is  very  weak  ; 
this  must  be  a  sad  affliction,  for  you  especially,  because 
I  am  given  to  understand  that  you  were  before  this 
accident  a  famous  singer  at  free-and-easies  and  other 
convivial  meetings,  and  made  much  money  by  your 
voice  T 

'  That's  the  fact,1  hoarsely  whispered  the  plaintiff. 

'  Very  sad.  I  am  told  your  voice  was  not  only 
melodious,  but  very  powerful.  Perhaps,1  continued 
counsel  in  the  most  insidiously  flattering  tones,  'you 
might  give  his  Lordship  and  the  jury  a  specimen  of 
what  your  voice  was  before  this  unlucky  accident.' 

And  the  fool,  entrapped  by  counsel's  apparent  sym- 
pathy and  the  petty  vanity  clinging  to  all  singing  men 
to  show  off,  actually  broke  forth  into  a  rollicking  drink- 
ing song,  which  shook  the  walls  of  the  building.  There- 
upon counsel  asked  for  a  verdict  for  his  client  the 
defendant,  and  for  costs,  and  got  the  first,  if  not  the 
second. 

The  terms  barrister  and  counsel  are  often  used  indis- 
criminately ;  every  barrister  is  a  counsel,  but  not  every 
counsel  a  barrister.  There  are  barristers  whose  names 
are  in  everybody's  mouth,  and  who  earn  their  thousands 
a  year ;  there  are  counsel  unknown  to  the  public,  who 
never,  or  only  under  peculiar  circumstances,  appear  at 
the  Bar,  but  who  are  well  known  to  the  legal  profession, 
and  make  more  than  twice  as  much  as  the  barrister 

18 


274  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

practising  at  the  Bar;  they  are  'consulting'  counsel. 
When  you  go  to  a  joiner  and  tell  him  to  make  you  a 
cabinet,  he  takes  your  order,  and  sets  about  making  the 
piece  of  furniture  you  want ;  he  does  not  say  that,  as 
such  an  article  is  not  one  he  ever  heard  of  in  his  trade, 
he  will  go  and  learn  from  someone  more  experienced 
than  himself  how  to  execute  your  order,  and  that  you 
will  have  to  pay  for  his  improving  himself  in  joinery. 
But  if  you  go  to  your  lawyer  with  a  case  which  is  not 
of  the  most  usual  description,  he  informs  you  that  he 
must  have  counsel's  opinion,  for  which  you  have  to  pay 
from  two  to  five  guineas,  to  improve  your  lawyer's  legal 
knowledge.  And  he  sends  a  number  of  questions  to  a 
'  consulting '  counsel.  Now,  as  every  lawyer  of  any 
standing  has  in  his  library  all  the  legal  handbooks  and 
reports  of  cases  which  are  the  consulting  counsel's  only 
guides,  the  lawyer  might  as  well  look  up  the  precedents 
himself,  but  that  would  not  be  etiquette,  nor  so  profit- 
able all  round,  and  so  the  more  expensive  method  must 
be  followed.  The  consulting  counsel  sits  in  his  cham- 
bers as  the  soothsayers  of  old  sat  in  their  temples,  whence, 
like  them,  he  sends  forth  oracular  utterances  as  obscure 
and  ambiguous  as  those  of  the  ancient  mummers,  and 
straightway  solicitors  and  clients  feel  relieved  of  all 
anxiety :  they  have  counsel's  opinion  and  their  case  is  as 
good  as  won.  For  their  counsel's  opinion  is  favourable, 
or,  at  all  events,  this  is  the  interpretation  they  put  on 
it,  though  counsel's  opinion  on  the  same  case  on  the 
other  side  reads  the  very  reverse.  Should  it  so  happen 
that  on  the  day  in  which  counsel  has  given  his  opinion 
a  case  should  be  decided  in  a  law-court,  which  shows 
that  his  opinion  is  not  worth  a  rap,  will  counsel  rush  off 


BARS  AND  BARRISTERS  275 

to  the  lawyer  to  tell  him  so  ?  Not  he  ;  he  is  not  going 
to  admit  that  he  is  fallible.  And  he  will  not  give  his 
opinion  on  the  same  case  twice.  A  lawyers  clerk  having 
obtained  such  an  opinion  from  counsel,  and  passing  a 
pub,  where  he  had  agreed  to  meet  a  friend  of  his  to 
settle  a  little  betting  transaction,  left  the  opinion  in 
the  omnibus  in  which  he  had  come,  and  did  not  discover 
his  loss  till  it  was  too  late  to  go  to  counsel  again  the 
same  day.  So  he  went  the  next  day,  prepared  to  pay 
out  of  his  own  pocket  for  another  copy  of  the  document. 
Counsel  honestly  said  :  '  I  could  not  do  that,  my  friend 
for  to-day  I  might  give  you  an  opinion  totally  opposed 
to  the  one  I  gave  you  yesterday,  which  would  be 
awkward  if  the  first  should  turn  up.' 

Sometimes  consulting  counsel  will  condescend  to 
come  into  court  to  argue  some  disgustingly  technical 
point  about  '  contingent  remainders ,  or  '  conveyancing.'' 
On  such  occasions  they  evince  unbounded  contempt 
for  the  court,  whose  ignorance  necessitates  their  presence. 
They  will  consume  a  whole  day  in  dull  and  dry  argu- 
ments, and  send  some  judges  to  sleep,  and  those  who 
remain  awake  after  counsel's  speech  know  less  of  the 
matter  than  they  knew  before  ;  their  brains  are  muddled 
with  the  legal  rigmarole  they  have  been  listening  to. 
The  ecclesiastical  counsel,  who  flourished  in  the  days 
before  the  Probate  and  Divorce  Courts  were  established, 
and  from  'doctors1  became  '  counsel,"1  when  called  out 
into  the  general  practice  of  the  new  system,  were  like 
so  many  owls  suddenly  brought  into  daylight,  Sir 
Cresswell  Cresswell  so  bedevilled  them,  and  yet  did  it  so 
politely  that  they  could  not  complain. 

Barristers  had  a  good  time  of  it  in  those  old  days  of 

18—2 


276  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  Ecclesiastical  Courts ;  the  system  of  appeal  was 
splendidly  organized — the  pettiest  case  could  gradually 
be  raised  into  one  of  great  importance.  There  were 
courts  throughout  the  country — royal,  archiepiscopal, 
episcopal,  decanal,  sub  -  decanal,  prebendal,  rectorial, 
vicarial,  and  manorial.  A  case  arises  in  any  one  of 
these  courts,  and  the  verdict  being  unsatisfactory  to 
one  of  the  parties,  he  appeals  to  the  courts  of  the 
archdeacons  and  others,  where  the  case  is  again  heard, 
decided,  and  again  appealed  against.  Poor  men,  who 
cannot  go  on  for  ever,  must  stop ;  but  the  party  who 
can  afford  it  goes  to  the  Consistorial  Court,  where  the 
whole  process  of  hearing,  deciding,  and  appealing  is 
repeated.  The  third  step  is  the  Chancellor's  Court ; 
the  fourth  the  Court  of  Arches.  If  the  appellant  still 
has  some  money  left,  he  may  go  to  the  Privy  Council — 
formerly  to  the  Court  of  Delegates  at  Doctors1  Commons, 
now  abolished.  This  is  no  mere  imaginary  case.  '  There 
was  a  case,'  says  Dr.  Nicholls,  '  in  which  the  cause  had 
originally  commenced  in  the  Archdeacon's  Court  at 
Totnes,  and  thence  there  had  been  an  appeal  to  the 
Court  at  Exeter,  thence  to  the  Arches,  and  thence  to 
the  Delegates ;  and  the  whole  question  at  issue  was 
simply  the  question  which  of  two  persons  had  the  right 
of  hanging  his  hat  on  a  particular  peg.  Fancy,  what 
an  army  of  barristers  must  have  grown  fat  on  this 
oyster  I1 

Success  at  the  Bar  comes  to  barristers  in  the  most 
capricious  manner.  In  this  profession,  as  in  many 
other  pursuits,  modest  merit  but  slowly  makes  its  way. 
Manners  make  the  man,  but  impudence  an  advocate ; 
without  this  latter  quality  even  high  connections  and 


BARS  AND  BARRISTERS  277 

powerful  patronage  often  seem  ineffectual.  Earl  Camden, 
the  son  of  Chief  Justice  Pratt,  was  called  to  the  Bar  in 
his  twenty-fourth  year,  and  remained  a  briefless  barrister 
for  nine  long  years,  when  he  resolved  to  abandon  West- 
minster Hall  for  his  College  Fellowship  ;  but  at  the 
solicitation  of  his  friend  Healey,  afterwards  Lord 
Chancellor  Northington,  he  consented  once  more  to  go 
the  Western  Circuit,  and  through  his  kind  offices  received 
a  brief  as  his  junior  in  an  important  case.  His  leader's 
illness  threw  the  management  of  the  case  into  Mr.  Pratt's 
hands ;  his  success  was  complete,  and,  after  many  years' 
lucrative  practice,  he  was  made  Attorney-General,  and 
three  years  after,  in  1762,  raised  to  the  Bench  as  Chief 
Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas.  In  1766  he  was  made 
Lord  Chancellor,  and  raised  to  the  peerage.  The  Earl 
of  Eldon  was  on  the  point  of  retiring  from  the  contest 
for  clients,  when  fortune  unexpectedly  smiled  upon  him, 
and  the  records  of  the  Bar  are  full  of  similar  instances. 

We  have  spoken  of  cross-examination.  Its  legitimate 
object  is  not  to  produce  startling  effects,  but  to  elicit 
facts  which  will  support  the  theory  intended  to  be  put 
forward ;  but  in  most  cases  the  first  is  aimed  at,  and 
frequently  with  success.  Counsel,  however,  must  perform 
this  operation  with  much  discretion.  To  a  barrister 
who  was  recklessly  asking  a  number  of  questions  in  the 
hope  of  getting  at  something,  Mr.  Baron  Alderson  said : 
'  You  seem  to  think  that  the  art  of  cross-examination 
consists  in  examining  crossly. ,  Judges  frequently  give 
hints  to  counsel ;  to  one  who  was  terribly  long-winded, 
the  judge  said  :  'You  have  stated  that  before,  but  you 
may  have  forgotten  it — it  was  so  long  ago."  Counsel 
must  not  allow  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  the  fervour 


278  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

of  his  oratorical  powers,  and  thus  overshoot  the  mark. 
Arabin,  the  Commissioner,  a  shrewd,  quaint  little  man, 
uttered  absurdities  without  knowing  he  did  so.  '  I 
assure  you,  gentlemen,1  he  one  day  said  to  the  jurv, 
'  the  inhabitants  of  Uxbridge  will  steal  the  very  teeth 
out  of  your  mouth  as  you  walk  through  the  streets.  / 
know  it  from  experience?  When  technical  expressions 
are  likely  to  be  brought  up  in  a  case  before  the  court, 
counsel  should  be  careful  to  get  posted  up  in  them,  or 
he  may  make  a  strange  and  laughable  mess  of  it.  A 
question  of  collision  between  two  boats  down  the  river 
Thames  was  being  investigated.  The  master  of  one  of 
the  boats  was  in  the  witness-box. 

'  Now,'  said  counsel,  cross-examining  him,  '  what  time 
was  it  when  the  other  boat  ran  into  you,  as  you  say  T 

'  It  was  during  the  dog-watch,1  replied  the  mariner. 

'  You  hear  this,  gentlemen  P1  said  counsel,  turning  to 
the  jury.  'According  to  this  man's  evidence,  a  boat, 
laden  with  valuable  merchandize,  is  left  in  charge  of  a 
dog !  And,  guilty  of  such  contributory  negligence,  this 
man  has  the  impudence  to  come  into  court  and  claim 
compensation  and  damages  I1  And,  turning  to  the 
witness  again  :  '  Was  your  boat  attached  to  a  landing- 
stage  T 

1  No  ;  to  a  buoy.1 

'  A  boy !  These  are  curious  revelations.  A  mere 
boy  is  made  to  hold  the  boat !  And  where  was  the 
boy  P1 

'  Why,  in  the  water,  of  course  I1 

'  This  is  getting  more  strange  every  moment.  The 
poor  boy  is  actually  kept  standing  in  the  water  whilst 
he  is  holding  the  boat !     I  had  no  idea  such  cruelties 


BARS  AND  BARRISTERS  279 

were  practised  in  the  shipping — shipping  interest.  The 
Legislature  should  see  to  this.'  Then,  fumbling  among 
his  papers,  counsel  went  on  :  '  You  said,  when  questioned 
by  my  learned  friend,  that  you  had  gone  on  shore? 
Why  did  you  go  on  shore  P1 

'  To  get  a  man  to  bleed  the  buoy.  It  wanted  bleeding 
very  much." 

'  You  went  to  get  a  surgeon,  you  mean  P1 

'  No  ;  a  workman  from  the  yard.1 

*  What,  to  bleed  a  boy  !  To  perform  so  delicate  an 
operation  on  a  boy,  then  standing  in  the  water,  and,  in 
the  state  of  health  he  was  in,  no  doubt  in  great  pain, 
whilst  holding  the  boat  all  the  time — shocking  in- 
humanity f 

Here  judge  and  jury  thought  it  time  to  interfere. 
They  all  knew  the  meaning  of  the  technical  terms  ;  but 
as  they  enjoyed  the  fun  of  seeing  counsel  getting  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  mire,  they  allowed  him  to  go  on, 
and  the  court  being  full  of  sailors,  who  cheered  counsel 
vociferously  as  he  stumbled  from  blunder  to  blunder, 
the  trial  was  one  of  the  most  amusing  in  that  court, 
and  gave  judge  and  jury  a  splendid  appetite  for  their 
lunch. 

Some  counsel  are  very  fond  of  reminding  a  witness  at 
every  other  question  they  put  to  him  that  he  is  '  on  his 
oath.1  The  practice  is  absurd,  the  very  reminder  sounds 
sarcastic.  This  '  taking  the  oath 1  is  a  relic  of  ancient 
barbarism  and  superstition  ;  for  the  man  who  means  to 
tell  the  truth  it  is  unnecessary,  and  on  the  man  who 
intends  to  tell  a  lie  it  is  no  check ;  he  looks  on  the  pro- 
ceeding as  a  ridiculous  ceremony.  The  very  official  who 
administers  the  oath  in  court,  by  the  way  he  rattles  it 


280  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

oft,  shows  in  what  estimation  he  holds  it.  Nay,  in 
matters  far  more  important  than  the  mere  stealing  of  a 
piece  of  cheese  off  a  counter,  on  occasions  when  one 
would  expect  taking  the  oath  to  be  invested  with  some 
solemnity,  how  is  it  done  ?  I  once  accompanied  an 
Italian  friend  of  mine,  who  was  being  naturalized  in 
this  country,  to  the  court  where  he  was  to  take  the 
oath  of  allegiance.  This  is  how  the  official  authorized 
to  administer  the  oath  rushed  through  it :  'I  A.  B.  do 
swear  that  I  will  be  faithful  and  bear  true  allegiance  to 
Her  Majesty  Queen  Victoria  her  heirs  and  successors 
according  to  law  so  help  me  God  it  will  be  half  a  crown.1 
My  friend  produced  the  half-crown,  which,  I  suppose, 
stood  in  place  of  a  seal,  and  the  performance  was 
over.  With  the  court  '  So  help  me  God  it  will  be  half 
a  crown '  was  evidently  the  chief  point,  the  crowning 
glory  and  confirmation  of  the  allegiance  business. 

Swearing  children  as  witnesses  leads  to  very  ludicrous 
scenes,  enough  to  cover  the  whole  proceeding  with 
contempt,  and  show  its  utter  futility.  Montagu 
Williams,  Q.C.,  tells  a  good  story: 

At  a  trial  a  discussion  arose  as  to  whether  or  no  a 
boy  of  very  tender  age  was  old  enough  to  be  sworn. 
The  judge,  at  the  suggestion  of  counsel  for  the  prosecu- 
tion, interrogated  the  boy  :  '  Do  you  know  what  will 
become  of  you  if  you  tell  an  untruth  ? 

The  boy,  evidently  brought  up  in  the  Spurgeon 
school,  replied  :  '  Hell  fire.1 

'  What  will  become  of  you  if  you  play  truant,  and  do 
not  go  to  school  T 

'  Hell  fire,'  again  answered  the  boy. 

'  What  if  you  spill  the  milk  T 


BARS  AND  BARRISTERS  281 

*  Hell  fire; 

His  lordship  ran  through  a  list  of  trifling  faults  ;  the 
punishment  was  always  the  same — '  Hell  fire.1 

Counsel  then  suggested  that  the  boy  was  scarcely 
intelligent  enough  to  be  sworn.  But  the  judge  thought 
otherwise,  and  expected  he  would  grow  up  a  very  good 
man,  seeing  he  believed  that  the  most  trifling  error 
involved  the  penalty  of  hell  fire,  and  the  boy  was  sworn. 
The  boy,  of  course,  was  a  fool,  through  no  fault  of  his, 
but  through  that  of  his  bigoted  teachers. 

It  was  mentioned  above  that  in  the  days  of  Sir 
Matthew  Hale  professional  etiquette  allowed  clients  to 
have  interviews  with  counsel  without  the  intervention 
of  a  solicitor.  But  gradually,  after  his  time,  the  public 
were  deprived  of  this  privilege,  and  a  rigid  rule  was 
enforced  that  all  communications  to  counsel  must  be 
through  the  solicitor  only,  a  rule  highly  detrimental  to 
litigants,  since  it  caused  constant  misunderstandings  and 
misleading  instructions.  It  is  a  roundabout  way  of 
doing  business,  which  would  not  be  tolerated  for  a  day 
in  any  commercial  transaction.  It  was  from  the  first  a 
tyrannical  assumption  on  the  part  of  the  profession  that 
the  public  should  submit  to  a  restriction,  based 
nominally  on  professional  etiquette,  but  really  on 
professional  interest.  The  public  have  begun  to  object 
to  the  rule,  and  in  1888  the  Attorney-General  (Sir  R. 
Webster),  on  being  asked  to  express  his  views  in 
reference  to  the  occasions  when  a  barrister  may  advise 
and  otherwise  act  for  a  client  without  the  intervention 
of  a  solicitor,  replied  that  in  contentious  business, 
necessitating  inquiry  into  facts,  which  could  not  possibly 
be  undertaken  by  a  barrister,  it  was  essential  that  the 


282  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

latter  should  have  the  advice  of  a  solicitor.  But  might 
this  advice  not  be  given  in  the  presence  of  the  client  to 
exclude  the  possibility  of  misapprehension  ?  As  to 
non-contentious  business  Sir  Richard  allowed  of  direct 
communication  between  counsel  and  client.  My  own 
rule,  whenever  it  has  been  my  misfortune  to  be  involved 
in  a  legal  dispute,  has  always  been  to  push  aside  this 
bogie  of  professional  etiquette,  and  insist  on  telling 
counsel  my  own  story  myself. 

The  profession,  as  we  hardly  need  remind  the  reader, 
has  produced  many  distinguished  characters ;  to  choose 
from  amongst  them  those  most  deserving  of  praise 
would  be  difficult,  and  perhaps  invidious ;  still,  the 
actions  of  those  whose  conduct  has  not  imparted  to 
them  the  mere  splendour  of  passing  meteors,  but  has 
conferred  permanent  benefits  on  the  country,  seem  to 
entitle  them  to  a  certain  pre-eminence.  A  man  entitled 
to  such  pre-eminence  and  the  grateful  remembrance  of 
Englishmen  was  Sir  Samuel  Romilly.  His  father  was 
a  jeweller  in  Frith  Street,  Soho ;  the  boy  was  first 
placed  with  a  solicitor,  then  with  a  merchant,  and 
finally  articled  to  one  of  the  sworn  clerks  of  Chancery. 
At  the  expiration  of  his  articles  he  qualified  himself  for 
the  Bar,  but  he  had  to  wait  long  before  he  was  rewarded 
with  any  practice.  But  when  briefs  came,  they  came  in 
a  flood  ;  his  income  rose  to  about  =£?9,000  a  year.  He 
was  returned  to  Parliament  in  1806  by  the  electors  of 
Westminster,  without  the  expenditure  of  a  shilling  on 
his  part — a  significant  fact  of  his  merits  in  those  days 
of  bribery  and  corruption.  He  was  also  appointed 
Solicitor-General  and  knighted.  He  distinguished  him- 
self in  the  House  by  his  speeches   in   favour   of  the 


BARS  AND  BARRISTERS  283 

abolition  of  the  slave  trade,  but  his  great  claims  to  the 
gratitude  of  the  nation  are   the   efforts   he    made    to 
mitigate    the    Draconic    code    of  the  criminal    law,   in 
which    nearly    three    hundred    offences,    varying    from 
murder  to  keeping  company  with  a  gipsy,  were  punish- 
able with  death.     The  first  success  he  had  was  the  repeal 
of  the  statute  of  Elizabeth  which   made  it  a  capital 
offence  to  steal  privately  from  the  person  of  another. 
He  next    tried   to  get  several   statutes   repealed  which 
made  it  a  capital  offence  to  privately  steal  from  a  house 
or  a  shop  goods  to  the  value  of  five  shillings.     But  this 
Bill  was  lost.     What  bloodthirsty  savages  the  members 
of  the  House  must  have  been  in  those  days !     Some  of 
this  savagery  remains  in  their  blood  now,  for  when  the 
abolition  of  training  children  to  become  acrobats,  con- 
tortionists and  similar  horrors,  the  abolition  of  vivisection 
and  such-like  cruelties,  are  mooted  in  the  House,  the 
introducer  of  the  Bill  is  hooted  down.     Romilly,  as  we 
have  seen,  did  not  succeed  in  all  his  humane  efforts,  but 
he  kept  on  agitating  session  after  session,  and  cleared 
the  way  for  the  modification  and    mitigation    of  the 
ferocious  laws  which  turned  England  into  human  sham- 
bles.    And  what  Romilly  had  been  striving  for  was  a 
long   time    in    coming.     In    the   first   decades    of  this 
century  it  was  no  unusual  sight  to  see  from  a  dozen  to 
twenty  criminals,  many  for  slight  offences  only,  hanged 
in   one   morning   in   front  of  Newgate.     The   end   of 
Romilly  was  sad  ;  it  showed  the  malignity  of  fate.     He 
who  had  spent  his  life  in  endeavouring  to  lighten  the 
lot  of  others  was  terribly  stricken  himself.     In  1818  he 
lost  his  wife,  whom  he  had  married  twenty  years  before, 
and  her  loss  was  such  a  shock  to  him  that  he  fell  into 


284  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

delirium,  and  in  an  unwatched  moment  he  sprang  from 
his  bed,  cut  his  throat,  and  expired  almost  instantly. 

Nowadays  briefless  barristers  utilize  their  legal  know- 
ledge as  financiers  and  company  promoters ;  before 
those  two  honest  pursuits  had  been  invented  they 
had  to  turn  their  attention  to  other  specs.  Thus 
Francis  Forcer  the  younger,  the  son  of  Francis  Forcer, 
a  musician,  had  received  a  liberal  education,  and,  on 
leaving  Oxford,  entered  Gray's  Inn,  and  was  afterwards 
called  to  the  Bar,  where  he  practised  for  a  short  time. 
He  was  very  gentlemanly  in  his  manners,  and  in  person 
remarkably  tall  and  athletic.  In  1735,  having  been 
disturbed  by  legal  interference,  or  some  other  cause,  he 
petitioned  Parliament  for  a  license  for  Sadler's  Wells, 
which  application,  we  are  told,  was  rejected  at  first, 
but  in  the  end  it  must  have  been  granted,  for  we  are 
informed  that  he  was  the  first  who  exhibited  there  the 
diversions  of  rope-dancing  and  tumbling,  and  perform- 
ances on  the  slack  wire.  It  is  doubtful  whether  the 
speculation  paid,  for  at  the  time  of  his  death  (he  died 
in  1743)  he  directed  by  his  will  that  the  lease  of  the 
premises,  together  with  the  scenery,  implements,  stock, 
furniture,  household  stuff  and  things  thereunto  belong- 
ing, should  be  sold  for  the  purpose  of  paying  his  debts, 
which  direction  was  carried  out  soon  after  his  decease. 
This  seems  as  if  the  refreshment  bar,  for  which 
Mr.  Forcer  had  left  the  legal  Bar,  had  not  proved  very 
remunerative ;  perhaps  he  had  better  have  stuck  to 
the  litigation  oyster,  than  to  the  native  he  dispensed 
at  Sadler's  Wells. 


XVIII. 

THE   SUBLIME   BEEFSTEAKERS   AND   THE 
KIT-KAT  AND   ROTA   CLUBS. 

THE  last  two  centuries  were  very  prolific  in  the 
production  of  clubs,  founded  to  gratify  rational 
purposes  or  fanciful  whims.  In  those  days,  as  soon 
as  a  set  of  men  found  themselves  agree  in  any  particular, 
though  ever  so  trivial,  they  immediately  formed  them- 
selves into  a  fraternity  called  a  club.  The  Apollo  Club, 
which  held  its  meetings  at  the  Devil  tavern  in  Fleet 
Street,  comprised  all  the  wits  of  Ben  Jonson's  day  ; 
the  Cauliflower  in  Butcher  Hall  Lane  was  the  sober 
symposium  of  Paternoster  Row  booksellers.  Humdrum 
clubs  were  composed  of  peaceable  nobodies,  who  used  to 
meet  at  taverns,  sit  and  smoke  and  say  nothing.  A 
few  of  these  latter  clubs  survive.  But  Addison,  who 
knew  something  of  the  club  life  of  his  day,  said  :  '  All 
celebrated  clubs  were  founded  on  eating  and  drinking, 
which  are  points  wherein  most  men  agree,  and  in  which 
the  learned  and  the  illiterate,  the  dull  and  the  airy,  the 
philosopher  and  the  buffoon  can  all  of  them  bear  a  part.' 
Just  so,  though  not  every  club  would  acknowledge  it ; 
but  the  Beefsteakers  boldly  proclaimed  their  object  in 


286  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  name  they  assumed  ;  theirs  was  the  worship  of  beef- 
steaks. 

Now,  chops  and  steaks  are  relics  of  barbarism,  of  ages 
when  men,  having  not  as  yet  invented  cooking  apparatus, 
made  a  fire  between  some  stones,  and  laid  their  slices  of 
raw  meat  on  the  top,  and  ate  them  when  half  burnt 
and  blackened.  Steaks  done  on  a  gridiron  are  ante- 
diluvian enough,  but  mutton  chops  diffusing,  when 
undergoing  this  roasting  process,  throughout  the  room 
the  stench  of  a  tallow  candle  just  blown  out,  are  enough 
to  turn  the  stomach,  not  of  the  refined  gourmet  only, 
but  of  the  untutored  savage.  It  is  only  custom  which 
enables  the  visitor  to  the  grill-room  to  stand  its  effluvium, 
and  to  eat  the  food  placed  before  him.  Steaks  are  not 
so  bad,  because  they  have  not  the  sickening  smell  of  the 
chop,  and  so  they  actually  found  a  set  of  worshippers, 
who  formed  themselves  into  a  society  to  pay  due  adora- 
tion to  their  idol.  Of  course,  in  this  age  of  higher 
culture  and  more  widely  diffused  intelligence,  such  a 
proceeding  must  appear  to  us  not  only  childish,  but 
somewhat  degrading ;  it  was,  however,  a  phase  of  the 
convivial  life  and  tendency  of  the  Georgian  era,  and  as 
such  merits  a  record ;  but  lest  we,  in  producing  it, 
should  be  suspected  of  sympathizing  with  it,  we  deem  it 
necessary  to  preface  it  with  the  above  remarks. 

The  Beefsteak  Club*  was  founded  in  the  reign  of 
Anne,  and  was  composed  of  the  '  chief  wits  and  great 
men  of  the  nation,1  who  were,  however,  silly  enough  to 

*  Not  to  be  confounded  with  the  '  Sublime  Society  of  Steaks,' 
founded  a  few  years  after  the  club,  and  of  which  we  shall  speak 
more  fully  presently  as  the  more  important  of  the  two  associa- 
tions. 


THE  SUBLIME  BEEFSTEAKERS        287 

wear  suspended  from  the  neck  by  a  green  silk  ribbon  a 
small  gridiron  of  gold,  the  badge  of  the  club.  Dick 
Estcourt  the  player,  and  landlord  of  a  tavern  called  the 
Bumper,  in  Covent  Garden,  was  made  caterer  of  the 
club.  He  was,  we  are  told,  a  man  of  good  manners  and 
of  infinite  wit,  or  of  what  in  those  days  passed  for  wit, 
though  much  of  it  at  the  present  time  would  be  declined 
by  the  editor  of  the  poorest  comic  paper.  Steele,  how- 
ever, grows  quite  enthusiastic  over  him.  The  club  first 
established  itself  at  the  sign  of  the  Imperial  Phiz,  just 
opposite  the  famous  conventicle  in  the  Old  Jewry ;  here 
the  superintendent  of  the  kitchen  was  wont  to  provide 
several  nice  specimens  of  their  beef-steak  cookery. 
Eventually  the  boys  of  Merchant  Taylors1  School 
were  accustomed  to  regale  the  club  on  its  nights  of 
meeting  with  uproarious  shouts  of  '  Huzza,  Beefsteak  I1 
But  these  attentions  in  course  of  time  became  irksome, 
and  the  club  withdrew  to  more  quiet  quarters,  but  its 
final  fate  is  left  in  the  dark.  Ned  Ward,  in  his  '  Secret 
History  of  Clubs,'  from  whom  we  get  our  chief  informa- 
tion concerning  the  Beefsteak  Club,  simply  says :  '  So 
that  now,  whether  they  have  healed  the  breach,  and  are 
again  returned  into  the  Kit-Kat  community,  whence  it 
is  believed,  upon  some  disgust,  they  at  first  separated 
...  I  shan't  presume  to  determine,  .  .  .  but,  though 
they  are  much  talked  of,  they  are  difficult  to  be  found.'' 
The  Beefsteak  Society,  or  the  '  Sublime  Society  of 
Beefsteaks,1  as  they  chose  to  designate  themselves, 
whilst  severely  objecting  to  be  called  a  club,  originated 
with  George  Lambert,  the  scene-painter  of  Covent 
Garden  Theatre  during  Rich's  management  (1735), 
where  Lambert  often  dined  from  a  steak  cooked  on  the 


288  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

lire  in  his  painting-room,  in  which  he  was  frequently 
joined  by  his  visitors.  This  led  to  the  foundation  of 
the  society  in  a  room  in  the  theatre.  Afterwards  the 
place  of  meeting  was  at  the  Shakespeare  tavern  in  the 
Piazza,  and  subsequently  at  the  Lyceum,  and  on  its 
destruction  by  fire  (1830),  at  the  Bedford  Hotel,  and  on 
its  being  rebuilt  in  1834,  at  the  theatre  again.  The 
members  used  to  meet  on  Saturdays,  from  November  to 
the  end  of  June,  to  partake  of  a  dinner  of  beefsteaks. 
The  room  in  which  they  met  was  appropriately  fitted 
up,  the  doors,  wainscoting  and  roof,  of  English  oak, 
being  ornamented  with  gridirons ;  Lambert's  original 
gridiron,  saved  from  two  fires,  formed  the  chief  ornament 
in  the  centre  of  the  ceiling. 

Among  the  members  of  this  society,  restricted  to 
twenty-five,  were  George,  Prince  of  Wales,  and  his 
brothers,  the  Dukes  of  York  and  Sussex,  Sheridan, 
Lord  Sandwich,  Garrick,  John  Wilkes,  the  Duke  of 
Argyle,  the  Duke  of  Leinster,  Alderman  Wood,  and 
many  other  men  of  note.  The  club  had  its  president 
and  vice-president,  its  bishop,  who  said  grace,  and  its 
'  boots,''  as  the  steward  was  called  ;  the  Dukes  of  Sussex 
and  Leinster  in  their  turn  discharged  the  office  of  'boots.'' 
Its  festivals  were  of  a  somewhat  bacchanalian  character  ; 
the  chief  liquors  consumed  were  port  and  punch,  and 
fun,  the  more  rampant  the  more  relished,  followed  the 
feast.  They  had  their  bard,  or  laureate,  Captain  Morris, 
who  had  been  in  the  Life  Guards.  Here  is  a  stanza  of 
one  of  his  songs  : 

'  Like  Britain's  island  lies  our  steak, 
A  sea  of  gravy  bounds  it  ; 
Shallots,  confusedly  scattered,  make 
The  rockwork  that  surrounds  it. 


THE  SUBLIME  BEEFSTEAKERS        289 

» 

Your  isle's  best  emblem  there  behold, 

Remember  ancient  story ; 
Be,  like  jour  grandsires,  first  and  bold, 

And  live  and  die  with  glory.' 

Now  what  can  we  think  of  the  literary  taste  then 
prevailing  in  the  highest  quarters,  when  we  are  told 
that  this  song  rendered  Morris  so  great  a  favourite  with 
the  Prince  of  Wales  that  he  adopted  him  in  the  circle 
of  his  intimate  friends,  and  made  him  his  constant  guest 
both  at  Carlton  House  and  the  Pavilion  at  Brighton  ? 
Truly,  in  those  days  fame  and  distinction  were  lightly 
earned  !  But  does  not  our  own  time  admire,  or  pretend 
to  admire,  the  jerky  platitudes  of  a  Tennyson,  and  the 
jejune  prose,  cut  up  into  measured  lines,  of  a  Browning 
as  poetry  ?  By  the  society  Morris  was  presented  with 
an  elegant  silver  bowl  for  his  'pottery.-1 

In  the  decline  of  life  and  fortune  Morris  was  hand- 
somely provided  for  by  his  fellow-steak,  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  who  conferred  upon  him  a  charming  retreat  at 
Brockham  in  Surrey,  which  he  lived  to  enjoy  until  the 
year  1838,  surviving  his  benefactor  by  twenty-three 
years,  whilst  hundreds  of  men  of  real  merit  were  left  to 
fight  the  battle  of  life  unaided  and  unrewarded.  But 
those  who  amuse  the  idle  hours  of  fools  with  foolish 
nonsense  are  always  more  highly  thought  of  than  those 
who  instruct  and  impart  useful  knowledge.  There  is 
more  money  spent  at  a  State  or  Municipal  banquet  in 
one  evening  than  would  suffice  for  maintaining  a 
scientific  institution  for  a  whole  year.  What  did  the 
Queen's  Jubilee  cost  the  nation,  and  what  lasting- 
benefit  has  this  extravagant  expenditure  conferred  on 
the  nation  ?     Of  all  this  firework,  what  remains  but  the 

19 


290  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

sticks  and  the  burnt-out  cartridge  tubes?  Carlyle, 
with  whom  we  agree  in  few  things,  was  right  in  what 
he  said  about  the  aggregate  of  fools.  But  return  we 
to  the  '  sublime ,  Beefsteakers.  The  epithet  they 
assumed  reminds  us  that  there  is  indeed  but  one  step 
from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous.  When  a  society, 
formed  for  the  mere  purpose  of  gorging  and  swilling, 
and  howling  drinking  songs,  the  most  stupid  of  all 
songs,  calls  itself  '  sublime,-1  may  we  not  ask,  Where  are 
the  '  Lofty  Taters-all-'ot '  and  the  '  Exalted  Tripe  and 
Onioners  P1 

There  were  some  queer  members  in  the  society.  A 
wealthy  solicitor,  named  Richard  Wilson,  popularly 
called  Dick,  having  been  to  Paris,  and  not  knowing  a 
word  of  French,  praised  French  cookery,  and  said  that 
its  utmost  perfection  was  seen  in  the  way  in  which  they 
dished  up  a  '  rendezvous ' ;  he  meant  a  ?is  de  veau. 
Being  asked  if  he  ate  partridge  in  France,  Dick  said 
'Yes,1  but  he  could  not  bear  them  served  up  in  'shoes'1; 
he  meant  perdrix  mix  clioux.  William  Taylor,  another 
member,  believed  firmly  that  Stonehenge  was  formed 
by  an  extraordinary  shower  of  immense  hailstones  which 
fell  two  thousand  years  ago.  The  society,  we  know, 
claimed  to  be  a  literary  society,  and  had  actually  offered 
a  prize  of  <£400  for  the  best  comedy.  It  had  many 
dramatic  authors  among  its  members.  One  of  them 
was  Cobb,  who,  among  other  plays,  wrote  '  Ramah 
Drug 1 — drug  or  droog  meaning  in  India,  where  the 
scene  was  laid,  a  hill-fort  ;*  he  was  complimented  by  his 

*  The  tower  known  as  Severndroog  on  Shooter's  Hill  com- 
memorates the  taking  of  the  fort  of  that  name  on  the  coast  of 
Malabar. 


THE  SUBLIME  BEEFSTEAKERS         291 

fellow-members  on  the  happy  titles  he  always  chose  for 
his  pieces.  '  What  could  be  better  for  your  last  attempt 
to  ram  a  drug  down  the  public  throat  than  "  Ramah 
Druo-"?"'  said  one  of  the  Beefsteakers.  But  Arnold,  a 
rival  dramatist,  disputed  Cobb's  claim  to  admiration  on 
this  account.  '  What  worse  title,'  said  he,  '  could  he 
have  chosen  for  his  "Haunted  Tower"?  Why,  there 
is  no  spirit  in  it  from  beginning  to  end  I1 

When  the  Beefsteak  Society  was  broken  up  in  1869, 
the  pictures  of  the  former  members,  mostly  copies,  were 
sold  for  only  about  £10.  The  plate,  however,  brought 
high  prices ;  the  forks  and  table-spoons,  all  bearing  the 
emblem  of  the  club,  a  gridiron,  fetched  about  a  sovereign 
apiece ;  the  punch-ladle  realized  £14>  5s. ;  a  cheese- 
toaster  brought  i?12  6s.;  an  Oriental  punch-bowl, 
£17  15s.  Wine-glasses,  engraved  with  the  gridiron, 
sold  for  from  27s.  to  34s.  a  pair.  The  actual  gridiron, 
plain  as  it  was,  fetched  5£  guineas.  Eulogies  have 
been  written  on  the  society,  as  if  it  had  been  a  really 
meritorious  institution,  and  endless  anecdotes  are  told, 
chiefly  illustrating  the  gluttony  of  the  members;  but 
such  details  are  neither  attractive  in  themselves  nor 
profitable  to  the  reader,  and  we  will  not  enter  into 
them.  We  agree  with  Thackeray's  estimate  of  the 
club-life  of  the  last  century:  'It  was  too  hard,  too 
coarse  a  life.  .  .  .  All  that  fuddling  and  punch-drink- 
ing, that  club  and  coffee-house  boozing,  reduced  the 
lives  and  enlarged  the  waistcoats  of  the  men  of  that 
age.1  But  such  were  the  convivial  clubs  of  the  past ;  it 
is  as  well  to  see  the  other  side  of  things. 

Addison,  in  support  of  his  assertion  that  all  clubs 
were  founded   on   eating  and  drinking,  says  that  the 

19—2 


292  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Kit-Kat  Club  itself  is  said  to  have  taken  its  original 
from  mutton-pies.  If  he  means  its  name,  he  is,  as  far 
as  can  now  be  known,  right ;  but  if  he  means  that  its 
object  was  the  consumption  of  pies,  as  the  consumption 
of  steaks  was  that  of  the  '  Sublime '  Beefsteaks,  he  was 
wrong.  The  Kit-Kat  was  the  great  Whig  club  of 
Queen  Anne's  time ;  it  consisted  of  the  principal  noble- 
men and  gentlemen  who  had  opposed  the  arbitrary 
measures  of  James  II.,  and  was  instituted  about  the 
year  1700  for  the  purpose  ostensibly  of  encouraging 
literature  and  the  fine  arts,  but  really  for  promoting 
loyalty  and  allegiance  to  the  Protestant  succession  in 
the  House  of  Hanover.  Among  the  forty -eight 
members  were  the  Dukes  of  Marlborough  and  New- 
castle ;  the  Earls  of  Halifax,  Dorset,  and  Wharton ; 
Sirs  Robert  Walpole,  John  Vanbrugh,  Richard  Steele, 
Samuel  Garth,  Godfrey  Kneller;  Addison,  Congreve, 
Pulteney,  Walsh,  and  other  persons,  illustrious  for  rank 
or  talent. 

The  real  founder  of  the  club  is  said  to  have  been 
Jacob  Tonson,  the  bookseller;  he  was  for  many  years 
their  secretary,  and,  in  fact,  the  very  pivot  upon  which 
the  society  revolved.  Their  meetings  were  originally 
held  at  a  house  in  Shire  Lane,  close  to  Temple  Bar,  a 
lane  which  in  time  became  infamous  as  the  resort  of 
thieves,  rogues,  and  ruffians  of  every  kind,  though  in 
previous  years  it  had  been  fashionable.  The  house 
where  they  met  was  kept  by  one  Christopher  Katt,  a 
pastrycook,  famous  for  his  mutton  pies,  which  im- 
mortalized his  name,  since  they  became  known  by  it, 
Kit  being  then  a  vulgar  abbreviation  of  Christopher, 
and  Katt  being  his  surname,  and  from  these  pies  the 


THE  SUBLIME  BEEFSTEAKERS        293 

club  took  its  name,  the  pies  always  forming  part  of  its 
bill  of  fare.  It  seems  strange  that  with  so  simple  a 
derivation  the  origin  of  the  name  Kit-Kat  should  have 
been  unknown  even  to  Pope  or  Arbuthnot — it  is  un- 
certain to  whom  the  lines  are  attributable — who  wrote : 

•  Whence  deathless  Kit-Kat  took  his  name 

Few  critics  can  unriddle  : 
Some  say  from  pastrycook  it  came, 

And  some  from  Cat  and  Fiddle. 
From  no  trim  beaus  its  name  it  boasts, 

Grey  statesmen  or  green  wits, 
But  from  this  pell-mell  pack  of  toasts, 

Of  old  Cats  and  young  Kits.' 

Surely  the  name  is  simply  that  of  the  pastrycook,  Kit 
(Christopher)  Katt,  given  to  his  pies,  and  has  no 
reference  to  old  cats  or  young  kits  or  kittens. 

As  regards  the  pies,  Dr.  King,  in  his  'Art  of 
Cookery,''  wrote : 

'  Immortal  made  as  Kit-Kat  by  his  pies ;' 

and  in  the  prologue  to  '  The  Reformed  Wife,1  a  comedy, 
1700,  is  the  line  : 

'  A  Kit-Kat  is  a  supper  for  a  lord.' 

Tonson  had  his  own  and  the  portraits  of  all  the 
members  painted  by  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller ;  each  member 
gave  him  his.*  The  canvas  was  36  inches  by  28  inches, 
sufficiently  long  to  show  a  hand,  and  the  size  is  still 
known  as  the  Kit-Kat.  There  were  forty-two  of  those 
portraits,  and  they  were  first  hung  up  in  the  club-room, 
but  Tonson  in  time  removed  them  to  his  country-house 

<s  They  were  all  engraved  in  mezzotinto  by  the  younger 
Faber. 


294  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

at  Barn  Elms,  where  he  built  a  handsome  room  for 
their  reception,  and  where  the  club  frequently  met. 
At  his  death  in  1736,  Tonson  left  them  to  his  great- 
nephew,  also  an  eminent  bookseller,  who  died  in  1767. 
The  paintings  were  then  removed  to  the  house  of  his 
brother  at  Water-Oakley,  near  Windsor,  and  on  his 
death  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Baker,  one  of  the  sons  of  Sir 
William  Baker,  who  had  married  the  elder  of  the  two 
daughters  of  old  Tonson ;  the  house  of  this  Mr.  Baker 
is  called  the  Park,  situate  at  Hertingfordbury,  where 
they  still  remain. 

As  regards  the  room  at  Barn  Elms  referred  to  above, 
Sir  Richard  Phillips,  in  his  '  Morning  Walk  from 
London  to  Kew,1  in  1816,  gives  an  account  of  his  visit 
to  it. 

'  A  lane,'  he  says,  '  brought  me  to  Barn  Elms,  where 
now  resides  a  Mr.  Hoare,  a  banker,  of  London.  The 
family  were  not  at  home,  but  on  asking  the  servants  if 
that  was  the  house  of  Mr.  Tonson,  they  assured  me, 
with  great  naivete,  that  no  such  gentleman  lived  there. 
I  named  the  Kit-Kat  Club  as  accustomed  to  assemble 
here,  but  the  oddity  of  the  name  excited  their  ridicule, 
and  I  was  told  that  no  such  club  was  held  there ;  but 
perhaps,  said  one  to  the  other,  the  gentleman  means 
the  club  that  assembles  at  the  public-house  on  the 
common.  .  .  .  One  of  them  exclaimed :  "  I  should  not 
wonder  if  the  gentleman  means  the  philosopher's  room.''1 
"Aye,11  rejoined  his  comrade,  "  I  remember  somebody 
coming  once  before  to  see  something  of  this  sort,  and 
my  master  sent  him  there.11  I  requested,  then,  to  be 
shown  to  this  room,  distinguished  by  so  high  an  appella- 
tion, when  I  was  conducted  across  a  detached   garden 


THE  SUBLIME  BEEESTEAKEliS         295 

and  brought  to  a  handsome  erection  in  the  architectural 
style  of  the  early  part  of  the   last   century,  evidently 
the   establishment    of  the    Kit-Kat  Club !    .   .    .     The 
man  unfastened  the  decayed  door  of  the  building,  and 
showed  me  the  once  elegant  hall  filled  with  cobwebs,  a 
fallen  ceiling,  and  accumulated  rubbish.     On  the  right 
the  present  proprietor  had  erected  a  copper,  and  con- 
verted one   of  the  parlours  into  a   wash-house.     The 
door  on  the  left  led  to  a  spacious  and  once  superb  stair- 
case, now   in   ruins,  presenting  pendant  cobwebs   that 
hung  from  the  lofty  ceiling,  and  which  seemed  to  be 
deserted    even    by  the    spiders.  ...      I   ascended   the 
staircase ;  here  I  found  the  Kit-Kat  Club-room  nearly 
as  it  existed  in  its  days  of  service.     It  was  about  18  feet 
high,  40  feet  long,  and  20  wide.     The  mouldings  and 
ornaments  were  in  the  most  superb  fashion  of  the  day, 
but  the  whole  was  tumbling  to  pieces  from  the  effects 
of  the  dry  rot.   .  .   .      The    marks  and    sizes  [of  the 
portraits]  were  still  visible,  and  the  numbers  and  names 
remained    as   written    in    chalk    for  the    guide    of  the 
hanger.  .  .  .     On  rejoining  Mr.   Hoare's  man  in  the 
hall  below  ...  he  told  me  that  his  master  intended  to 
pull  [the  room]  down.  .  .  .     Mr.  Tonson's  house  had 
a  few  years  since  been  taken  down."' 

In  '  A  Pilgrimage  from  London  to  Woolstrope,1 
communicated  to  the  Monthly  Magazine  of  June,  1818, 
the  then  home  of  the  Kit-Kat  Club  pictures  is  thus 
referred  to :  'I  reached  Hartingfordbury,  and  the 
magnificent  seat  of  Win,  Baker,  Esq.  .  .  .  Here  I 
paid  my  homage  to  the  forty-two  portraits  of  the  Kit- 
Kat  Club,  and  found  myself  in  a  splendid  apartment. 
They  [the  portraits]  are  all  in  as  fine  a  condition  as 


296  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

though  they  had  been  painted  but  last  year.  I 
regretted,  however,  that  the  characteristic  features  are 
lost  or  disguised  by  the  enormous  perukes  which  dis- 
figured the  human  countenance  in  their  age.  The 
whole  looked  like  a  wiggery,  and  the  portrait  of 
Tonson  in  his  velvet  cap  was  the  only  relief  afforded 
by  the  entire  assemblage.-' 

But  even  the  Kit-Kat  Club  in  time 

'  Descended  from  its  high  politic  flavour, 
Down  to  a  sentimental  toasting  savour.' 

Byron  improved. 

The  club  was  invaded  by  a  spirit  of  gallantry. 
When  a  number  of  fashionable  gentlemen  meet,  politics 
are  all  very  well  for  a  time ;  horses  will  afford  the  next 
subject  of  entertainment,  but  the  women  must  come  in 
in  the  end.  And  so  the  members  of  the  Kit-Kat  Club 
established  the  custom  of  every  year  electing  some 
reigning  beauty  as  a  toast.  To  the  queen  of  the  year 
the  members  wrote  epigrammatic  verses,  which  were 
etched  with  a  diamond  on  the  club  glasses,  or  a  separate 
bowl  was  dedicated  to  her  worship,  and  the  lines 
engraved  thereon.  Some  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the 
toasts  had  their  pictures  hung  up  in  the  club-room. 
How  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu,  when  only  eight 
years  old,  was  introduced  and  declared  the  beauty  of 
the  year,  has  often  been  told.  Of  course,  to  our  more 
refined  ideas  of  propriety  the  conduct  of  her  father,  the 
Duke  of  Kingston,  in  thus  thrusting  his  infant  daughter 
into  the  society  of  his  roistering  boon -companions, 
cannot  but  appear  as  highly  reprehensible.  Among 
the    more    celebrated    of    the   toasts    were    the    four 


THE  SUBLIME  BEEFSTEAKERS        297 

daughters  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  :  Lady  Godol- 
phin,  Lady  Sunderland,  generally  known  as  the  Little 
Whig,  Lady  Bridgewater,  and  Lady  Monthermer. 
Swift's  friend,  Mrs.  Long,  and  the  niece  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  were  two  others.  Others  were  the  Duchesses 
of  Bolton,  St.  Albans,  Richmond  and  Beaufort;  also 
Lady  Molyneux,  who,  Walpole  says,  died  smoking  a 
pipe. 

We  will  conclude  our  account  of  this  club  with  a  few 
stray  notes. 

Three  o'clock  in  the  morning  seems  to  have  been  no 
uncommon  hour  for  the  club  to  break  up.  Addison 
and  Steele  usually  got  drunk,  so  did  Dr.  Garth,  the 
poet  laureate  of  the  club,  wherefore  a  Tory  lampooner 
said  that  at  this  club  the  youth  of  Anne's  reign  learned 

1  To  sleep  away  the  days,  and  drink  away  the  nights.' 

When  Tonson  had  gone  to  live  at  Barn  Elms,  the 
members  generally  held  their  meetings  at  his  house. 
In  the  summer  they  would  resort  to  the  Upper  Flask 
tavern,  near  Hampstead  Heath ;  but  this  practice  did 
not  continue  long :  there  was  too  much  difficulty  in 
getting  home  after  strong  potations.  The  Upper 
Flask  eventually  became  a  private  house,  and  was 
occupied  by  George  Steevens,  the  celebrated  critic  and 
antiquary,  till  his  death.  The  Kit-Kat  Club  died  out 
before  the  year  1727,  and  we  now  take  leave  of  it. 

We  have  given  accounts  of  a  purely  convivial,  of  a 
literary  and  artistic,  and  now  will  shortly  describe  a 
purely  political  club,  of  which,  however,  but  little  is 
known,  namely,  the  Rota.  It  took  its  name  from  its 
object,   namely,  to    promote    the  changing  of  certain 


298  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Members  of  Parliament  annually  by  rotation.     It  held 
its   meetings  at  the  Turk's  Head,  otherwise  known  as 
Miles"  Coffee-house,  in  New  Palace  Yard,  not  far  from 
the  residence  of  James  Harrington,  which  was  in   the 
Little  Ambry  (Almonry),  looking  into  the  Dean's  yard. 
It  was  founded  in  1659  for  the  dissemination  of  republi- 
can   ideas,    which    Harrington    had    glorified    in    his 
'  Oceana,1  and   for  resisting  Cromwell's  attempt  to  do 
without  a  Parliament  and  to  establish  an  undisguised 
military  despotism.     The  republicans  took  the  alarm, 
and  formed  themselves  into  a  debating  society,  says  the 
Royalist  Anthony  Wood,  to  discuss  the  best  form  of 
government.    Their  discourses,  according  to  this  author, 
of  ordering  a  commonwealth  were  the  most  ingenious 
and  smart  ever  heard,  for  the  arguments  in  the  Parlia- 
ment  House  were    flat    to    these.      This   gang   had   a 
balloting   box  .  .   .  the  room   was  every  evening  very 
full.     Beside  James  Harrington  and  Henry  Nevil,  who 
were  the  prime  men  of  the  club,  were  Cyriac  Skinner, 
Major  Wildman,  Roger  Coke,  author  of  the  'Detection 
of  the  Four  Last  Reigns,1  William   Petty  and   Maxi- 
milian Petty,  and  a  great  many  others.     The  doctrines 
were  very  taking,  and   the   more  so  because  to  human 
foresight  there  was  no  possibility  of  the  King's  return. 
The  greatest  of  the  Parliament  men  hated  this  rotation 
and   balloting,  as  being  against  their  power.     Henry 
Nevil  proposed  it  to  the  House ;  the  third  part  of  the 
House  should   vote  out  by  ballot  every  year,  and  not 
be  re-eligible  for  three  years  to  come,  so   that  every 
ninth  year  the  Senate  would  be  wholly  changed.     No 
magistrate  was  to  continue  above  three  years,  and  all 
were  to  be  chosen  by  a  sort  of  ballot.     It  is  probable 


THE  SUBLIME  BEEFSTEAKERS        299 

that  Milton  was  a  member  of  the  Rota;  Aubrey 
belonged  to  it  in  1659.  After  the  death  of  Cromwell 
the  Rota  gave  great  publicity  to  its  proceedings,  and 
acquired  a  high  reputation  for  learning,  talent,  and 
eloquence,  so  that  it  became  a  question  whether  it  were 
more  honourable  to  belong  to  the  Rota  or  the  Society 
of  Virtuosi,  which  had  been  designated  by  Boyle  in 
1646  'the  Invisible  or  Philosophical  Society/  The 
members  of  the  Rota  threw  into  the  teeth  of  their 
rivals  that  they  had  an  excellent  faculty  of  magnifying 
a  louse  and  diminishing  a  commonwealth.  Charles  II., 
who  was  a  virtuoso  himself,  avenged  this  taunt  by  erect- 
ing, in  1664,  the  Virtuosi  into  the  Royal  Society,  by 
dispersing  the  members  of  the  Rota,  and  exiling 
Harrington  for  life  to  the  island  of  St.  Nicholas,  near 
Plymouth  ;  but  he  was  afterwards  released  on  bail,  and 
died  at  his  house  in  the  Almonry  in  1677.  The  state- 
ment that  the  Royal  Society  was  established  for 
political  reasons,  though  it  has  often  been  contradicted, 
would  thus  seem  not  to  be  without  foundation.  In  the 
third  canto  of  the  second  part  of  '  Hudibras,"'  Sidrophel 
is  said  to  be 

'.  .  .as  full  of  tricks, 
As  Rota-men  of  politicks.' 


XIX. 

HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  AND  ITS  MASTERS. 

I. — Hampton  Court  Palace. 

npHE   environs  of  London   are  very  beautiful,  and 

■*■        full  of  scenic  and  architectural  contrasts.     Let 

us  render  our  exact  meaning  clear  by  taking  two 

of  the  most  striking  contrasts.    To  the  north  of  London 

lies  the  vast  expanse  of  Hampstead  Heath,  a   locality 

famous  for  charms  due  to  Nature  alone,  whilst  to  the 

south  of  London  we  have  Hampton  Court,  which  all 

the  arts  of  the  highest  civilization  and  noblest  genius 

have  for  centuries  striven  to  invest  with  a  grandeur  and 

loveliness    found    in    few   other   spots.       Painting    and 

sculpture,    architecture    and    horticulture,    have    here 

found  their  grandest  exponents,  and  Time,  which  alone 

could  do  it,  has  added  thereto  the  dignity  of  historic 

interest  and   the   fascination  of  romantic  associations. 

Not  only  are  the  rooms  and   halls,  the  corridors  and 

courtyards  of  the  palace,  artistic  caskets  in  themselves, 

they  are  filled  with  treasures  of  art.     And  how  easily 

can  imagination   re-people  these  now  usually  deserted 

chambers  and   passages,  and   with   the   mind  s  eye  see 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  301 

again  the  famous — and  sometimes  infamous — men  who 
here  disported  themselves,  the  charming  lovely — and 
sometimes  the  reverse — women,  whose  dazzling  beauty, 
lofty  demeanour,  dangerous  and  bewitching  glances,  led 
those  men  to  fortune  or  the  scaffold.  But  that  imagina- 
tion may  do  this,  not  only  is  an  accurate  knowledge  of 
the  localities  needed,  but  also  of  the  historic  occurrences 
which  have  taken  place  therein,  wherefore  our  account 
of  Hampton  Court  Palace,  which  we  have  undertaken 
to  give  in  a  necessarily  condensed  form,  will  after 
describing  the  structure  architecturally  record,  briefly 
also,  the  events  it  has  been  the  scene  of. 

We  assume  the  local  position  of  the  Palace  to  be 
sufficiently  well  known,  and  therefore  not  necessary  to 
be  described.  It  has,  not  inappropriately,  been  called 
the  St.  Cloud  of  Londoners.  In  the  time  of  Edward 
the  Confessor  Hampton  Manor  belonged  to  Earl  Algar, 
a  powerful  Saxon  nobleman,  and  its  value  then  was 
estimated  at  i?40  per  annum.  After  the  Norman  Con- 
quest it  is  mentioned  in  Doomsday  Book  as  held  by 
Walter  de  St.  Valeri,  who  probably  gave  the  advowson 
of  the  living  to  the  Priory  of  Takeley,  in  Essex,  which 
was  a  cell  to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Valeri,  in  Picardy ;  from 
the  port  adjoining  it  William  the  Conqueror  sailed  for 
England.  Hampton  Manor  subsequently  became  the 
property  of  Sir  Robert  Gray,  whose  widow  in  1211  left 
by  her  will  the  whole  manor  and  the  manor-house  of 
Hampton,  the  site  of  the  present  Hampton  Court 
Palace,  to  the  Knights  Hospitallers  of  St.  John  of 
Jerusalem,  whose  chief  residence  in  England  was  the 
Hospital  of  St.  John,  Clerkenwell,  and  of  which  now 
nothing    but    the    gate    remains.       The    manor    thus 


302  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

bequeathed  was  of  enormous  extent.  It  comprised 
within  its  boundaries  the  lesser  manors  of  Kingston- 
on-Thames,  Walton  Legh,  Byflete,  Weybridge,  East 
and  West  Moulsey,  Sandon,  Weston,  Innworth,  Esher, 
Oatlands,  together  with  the  manors  of  Hampton,  Han- 
worth,  Eeltham,  Teddington,  and  even  Hounslow 
Heath. 

Tradition  says  that  Cardinal  Wolsey,  at  the  summit 
of  his  power,  was  desirous  of  building  a  palace  suitable 
to  his  rank ;  but  he  was  equally  desirous  of  enjoying 
health  and  long  life,  and  employed  the  most  eminent 
physicians  in  England,  and  even  called  in  the  aid  of 
learned  doctors  from  Padua,  to  select  the  most  healthy 
spot  within  twenty  miles  of  London.  They  agreed 
that  the  parish  of  Hampton  was  the  most  healthy  soil, 
and  the  springs  in  Coombe  Wood,  south  of  Richmond 
Park,  the  purest  water  within  the  limits  assigned  to 
their  researches.  Upon  this  report  the  Cardinal 
bargained  for  a  lease  with  the  prior  of  St.  John  of 
Jerusalem,  and  the  following  is  a  precis  of  the  lease  as 
still  extant  in  the  Cottonian  MS.  in  the  British  Museum, 
and  first  published  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for 
January,  1834. 

The  indenture  was  made  between  Sir  Thomas 
Docwra,  prior  of  the  Hospital  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem 
and  his  brethren  knights  of  the  one  part,  and  Cardinal 
Wolsey,  Primate  of  England,  of  the  other  part.  It 
granted  a  lease  of  ninety-nine  years,  to  date  from 
January  12,  1514,  to  Cardinal  Wolsey  at  a  yearly  rent 
of  ^oO,  the  lessee  agreeing  to  the  usual  covenants  of  a 
repairing  lease.  If  the  rent  should  remain  unpaid 
during  two  whole  years,  the  lessors  to  have  the  right 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  303 

of  re-entry,  and  a  new  lease  to  be  granted  for  another 
ninety-nine  years  should  such  be  desired  by  the  lessee. 
The  lessors  did  not  foresee  the  future,  which  would,  by 
force  majeure,  put  an  end  to  all  their  lease-granting. 

As  soon  as  Wolsey  had  obtained  the  lease,  he  pulled 
down  the  old  manor-house,  in  which  hitherto  a  prior 
and  a  few  knights  had  been  accommodated,  and  began 
erecting  in  a  style  of  grandeur,  heretofore  unsurpassed 
in  this  country,  a  mansion  of  unparalleled  magnificence. 
But  who  was  this  Wolsey  ? 

A  most  unmitigated  villain,  on  a  par  with  that  other 
villain,  Henry  VIII. ,  whose  master,  through  being  his 
pimp,  he  was  for  a  time,  till,  in  perfect  accordance  with 
his  character,  he  became  his  abject  whining  slave.  I 
am  well  aware  that  it  is  not  usual  to  apply  such  a  term 
as  villain  to  a  King  or  his  chief  adviser — courtly 
historians  have  flowery  terms  for  the  crimes  of  Kings 
by  the  'grace  of  God,1  and  holy  ' Fathers-in-God,1  who 
misuse  the  powers  foolish  nations  have  entrusted  them 
with  to  the  vilest  purposes — but  the  spirit  of  justice, 
which  directs  thinking  and  logical  minds,  rejects  the 
flimsy  arguments  of  sycophantic  apologists ;  it  will  not 
have  Nero  whitewashed. 

Thomas  Wolsey  was  born  at  Ipswich  in  March,  1471. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  butcher,  who  also  possessed  some 
land,  and  was  sufficiently  well  off  to  send  his  son  to  the 
University  of  Oxford.  In  those  days  the  chief  and 
easiest  avenue  to  distinction,  office,  and  wealth  was 
through  the  Church,  and  Thomas  appears  to  have  been 
an  apt  scholar,  for  at  fourteen  years  of  age  he  was 
Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  thence  was  called  the  Boy 
Bachelor.     He  soon  after  became  Master  of  Arts,  and 


304  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

had  charge  of  the  school  adjoining  Magdalen  College, 
where  he  educated  the  three  sons  of  Thomas  Grey, 
Marquis  of  Dorset,  who  presented  him  in  1500  to  the 
rectory  of  Lymington.  This  was  indeed  a  rapid  rise 
for  the  son  of  a  butcher.  But  he  had  not  long  resided 
on  his  benefice  when  Sir  Amias  Paulet,  a  justice  of  the 
peace,  set  him  in  the  stocks  for  being  drunk  and  making 
a  disturbance  at  a  fair  in  the  neighbourhood.  Wolsey 
was  mean  enough  to  take  a  cruel  revenge  for  this 
punishment,  which,  no  doubt,  he  richly  deserved,  and 
which  must  at  the  time  have  been  approved  by  the 
community,  for  it  was  no  trifling  thing  in  those  days  to 
set  a  rector  in  the  stocks.  When  Wolsey  was  Lord 
Chancellor  he  sent  for  Sir  Amias,  and  after  a  severe 
jobation  confined  him  for  six  years  in  that  part  of  the 
Temple  which  long  passed  for  Henry  VIII.  and  Wolsey "s 
palace,  and  afterwards  was  Nando's,  a  famous  coffee- 
house. Wolsey  compelled  Paulet  to  almost  entirely 
rebuild  the  house.  When  Wolsey^  patron,  the  Marquis 
of  Dorset,  died,  the  former  looked  out  for  new  means 
to  push  his  fortunes,  for  his  avarice  was  boundless.  He 
accordingly  got  himself  admitted  into  the  family  of 
Henry  Dean,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury ;  but  that 
prelate  dying  in  1502,  he  found  means  of  ingratiating 
himself  with  Sir  John  Nanfan,  treasurer  of  Calais,  who 
being  weakened  by  age  and  other  infirmities,  committed 
the  direction  of  his  post  to  Wolsey,  who  by  his  recom- 
mendation was  made  one  of  the  King^  chaplains,  and 
in  1506  was  instituted  to  the  rectory  of  Redgrave,  in 
the  diocese  of  Norwich.  But  it  was  on  the  accession  of 
Henry  VIII.  that  he  had  the  opportunity  of  developing 
his  ambitious  and  covetous  schemes  by  the  vilest  means. 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  305 

He  recommended  himself  to  the  King's  favour  by  adapt- 
ing himself  to  his  capricious  temper  and  vicious  inclina- 
tions, acting  as  his  pimp,  and  participating  in  all  his 
debaucheries.  And  so  well  did  he  play  his  cards  with 
the  King  that  shortly  after  the  attainder  of  Sir 
Richard  Empson — executed  with  his  coadjutor  Dudley 
in  1510,  nominally  for  extortion,  but  really  because 
that  extortion  was  not  practised  on  the  King's  behalf, 
but  on  their  own — shortly  after  this  attainder  the  King 
conferred  on  Wolsey  a  grant  of  several  lands  and  tene- 
ments in  the  parish  of  St.  Bride's,  Fleet  Street,  which 
by  the  knight's  forfeiture  devolved  to  the  Crown.  In 
the  grant  Wolsey  is  styled  counsellor  and  almoner  to 
the  King.  In  the  same  year  he  was  presented  by  his 
royal  master  to  the  rectory  of  Torrington,  in  the  diocese 
of  Exeter.  Early  in  the  following  year  he  was  made  a 
Canon  of  Windsor  and  Registrar  of  the  Order  of  the 
Garter.  In  1512  he  was  advanced  by  Archbishop 
Bambridge  to  the  prebend  of  Bugthorp,  in  the  church 
of  York,  of  which  afterwards  he  also  was  made  a  Dean. 
In  1513  he  attended  the  King  in  his  expedition  to 
France,  who  committed  to  him  the  direction  of  the 
supplies  and  provisions  to  be  made  for  the  army — a 
profitable  concession,  which  Wolsey  knew  how  to  turn 
to  his  own  good  account.  On  the  taking  of  Tournay 
Henry  VIII.  made  Wolsey  Bishop  of  that  city,  and  not 
long  after  Bishop  of  Lincoln.  In  1814,  on  the  death 
of  Cardinal  Bambridge,  he  was  translated  to  the  Arch- 
bishopric of  York.  The  utter  recklessness  with  which 
the  King  bestowed  on  one  man  so  many  high  offices, 
the  duties  of  which  from  their  very  multiplicity  must 
be  totally  neglected  by  this  one  man,  this  recklessness 

20 


306  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

in  the  bestowal  of  ecclesiastical  dignities  and  emolu- 
ments on  an  upstart  whose  moral  character  was  of  the 
vilest  in  every  respect,  and  openly  known  to  be  such, 
was  only  equalled  by  the  greed  and  vanity  of  the 
recipient.  But  Fortune  had  greater  favours  yet  in 
store  for  him.  In  September,  1515,  he  was,  by  the 
interest  of  the  two  Kings  of  England  and  France,  made 
Cardinal  of  St.  Cecilia,  and  in  December  of  the  same 
year  Lord  Chancellor  of  England,  which  dignity  had 
been  resigned  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  who 
resented  the  arrogance  of,  and  the  powers  conferred  on, 
Wolsey.  The  Archbishop's  resignation  led  to  the 
retirement  of  all  the  other  great  officers  of  the  Crown, 
and  thus  Wolsey  became  absolute  master  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  whilst  he  was  really  carrying .  out  his  own 
schemes,  he  had  the  address  to  persuade  the  King, 
jealous  of  his  own  power,  that  he  was  only  blindly 
executing  his  royal  master's  behests  and  wishes.  The 
position  of  England  between  the  Emperor  and  the 
King  of  France  rendered  Henry  VIII.  to  some  extent 
the  arbitrator  of  Europe.  Wolsey  cleverly  exploited 
the  situation  ;  he  first  secured  the  goodwill  of  Francis  I. 
of  France  by  restoring  to  him,  in  1516,  Tournay, 
receiving  in  return  an  annuity  of  12,000  livres.  But 
the  Pope  was  the  most  anxious  to  secure  the  Minister's 
friendship,  and  therefore,  after  the  recall  of  Cardinal 
Campeggio,  made  Wolsey  his  Legate  a  Latere,  or  Extra- 
ordinary Envoy,  which  virtually  raised  him  to  the  rank 
of  Pope  of  England.  Though  Wolsey's  income  was 
already  tremendous  from  the  various  bishoprics  and 
other  high  offices  he  held,  and  the  presents  and  pensions 
he  received  from  foreign  princes,  the  Pope  granted  him 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  307 

an  annuity  of  7,500  ducats  on  the  bishoprics  of  Toledo 
and  Placentia.  With  Wolsey  "s  increase  of  power  rose 
his  arrogance,  his  covetousness,  and  his  love  of  ostenta- 
tion ;  the  beggar  was  put  on  horseback.  His  revenues 
almost  exceeded  those  of  the  Crown ;  the  splendour 
displayed  in  his  mode  of  living  was  greater  than  that 
of  many  Kings.  When,  after  the  election  of  Charles  V. 
as  Emperor  of  Germany,  the  latter  quarrelled  with 
Francis  I.,  each  endeavoured  to  draw  the  Cardinal  to 
his  side.  In  1520  he  arranged  an  interview  between 
the  three  Sovereigns,  but  at  last  sided  with  the 
Emperor,  who  granted  him  an  annuity  of  7,000  ducats, 
and  held  out  to  him  the  prospect  of  the  Papal  crown. 
After  having,  in  1521,  attempted  at  Calais  a  reconcilia- 
tion between  Henry  VIII.  and  Francis  I.,  he  entered 
into  a  secret  treaty  with  the  Emperor,  according  to 
which  the  English  King  was  to  declare  war  against 
France.  The  death  of  Leo  X.  and  the  subsequent 
election  of  Hadrian  VI.  to  the  Papal  dignity  almost  led 
to  a  breach  between  him  and  the  Emperor ;  but  the 
latters  promise  that  after  old  Hadrian's  death  he  would 
certainly  procure  him  the  Papal  crown  satisfied  Wolsey, 
especially  as  the  Emperor  added  2,500  ducats  to  the 
former  annuity,  and  gave  him  besides  another  of  9,000 
dollars  in  gold  for  his  loss  of  the  French  pension.  In 
1522  Henry  VIII.  commenced  the  war  against  his 
former  ally  by  entering  and  devastating  France. 
Wolsey  having  to  find  money  for  this  war,  he  had 
recourse  to  financial  oppression,  which  roused  the  in- 
dignation of  the  English  people.  But  at  the  new 
Papal  election  in  1523  Wolsey  saw  himself  again 
passed  over,  which  induced  him   to  lead  the  King  to 

20—2 


308  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

take  the  part  of  Francis  L,  who  was  then  a  prisoner. 
Henry  VIII.   had   to  retire  from   the  war,  to  enter  in 
1525  into    an    alliance  with  the  French  Regency,  for 
which   service   Wolsey  received   a   present  of   100,000 
crowns,  and  in  1528  to  declare  war  against  the  Emperor. 
Thus  the  proud  and  blustering  Henry  VIII.  became  the 
mere  tool  of  an  ambitious  and  disappointed  priest,  who 
used  him  and  the  resources  of  England  to  avenge  the 
slight  the  Emperor  had  put  upon  him  at  the  last  Papal 
election.     After  the  peace  of  Cambray  in  1529,  Wolsey 
was  on  the  summit  of  his  power,  but  also  terribly  near 
to  his  fall.     At  first  he  had,  from  hatred  of  her  nephew, 
Charles  V.,  not  opposed  the  King's  desire  to  obtain  a 
divorce  from  Catherine  of  Aragon  ;  but  when  he  found 
that  the  King  wanted  to   marry  Anne  Boleyn,  he  dis- 
approved   of    the   divorce,   as    he    feared    that    Anne's 
relatives    might  endanger   his    position    at  Court.     In 
obedience  to   the  King's  orders,  he   indeed   for   some 
time  urged  on  the  suit,  but  grew  less  zealous  when  he 
found  that  the  Pope  himself,  out  of  consideration  for 
the  Emperor,  was  against  the  divorce.     Henry  VIII. 
looked    upon    the    delay   as   due    to   the    intrigues    of 
Wolsey,   in    which   opinion    he   was   strengthened    by 
Anne  Boleyn,  who  had  a  special  reason  to  hate  him, 
for  it  was  through  him  that  her  marriage  with  young 
Lord    Percy,    a    member   of    Wolsey's    establishment, 
one   of  the    many   scions    of    the    nobility    who    were 
placed  under  the  guidance  of  the  Cardinal,  had  been 
broken  off.     When  Anne,  who  had  been  dismissed  the 
Court,  after  her  recall  found  it  necessary  to  augment 
her  rising  influence  over  the  King  to  dissemble,  and 
therefore   treated    Wolsey   with   the   greatest   outward 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  309 

respect,  she  secretly  took  every  opportunity  to  foster 
the  dislike  Henry  had  taken  to  him,  and  it  was  her 
underhand  influence  which  hastened  his  downfall,  and 
not  reasons  of  statecraft,  as  '  philosophical ,  historians 
would  have  us  believe.  Long  before  the  catastrophe 
Wolsey,  who  had  not  failed  to  notice  that  the  brutal 
tyrant's  favourable  sentiment  stowards  his  minion  were 
on  the  wane,  had  tried  to  conciliate  the  King  by  pre- 
senting Hampton  Court  to  him  in  1526;  but  the  gift 
had  not  been  one  of  love,  but  of  fear  and  despair,  and 
the  chief  cause  of  the  surrender,  according  to  tradition, 
was  the  fol lowing: : 

The  King's  fool  was  paying  a  visit  to  the  Cardinal's 
fool — for  both  the  King  and  the  Cardinal  were  such 
fools  themselves  as  to  find  pleasure  in  the  gabbling  of 
professional  fools — and  the  couple  went  down  into  the 
wine  vaults.  For  fun  one  of  them  stuck  a  dagger  into 
the  top  of  a  cask,  and,  to  his  surprise,  touched  some- 
thing that  gave  a  metallic  sound.  The  fools  thereupon 
set  to  work,  got  the  head  of  the  cask  out,  and  found  it 
to  be  full  of  gold  pieces.  Other  casks,  by  the  sound, 
indicated  that  they  held  wine.  The  King's  fool  stored 
up  the  fact  in  his  memory,  and  one  day  when  the  King 
was  boasting  about  his  wine,  the  fool  said,  '  You  have 
not  such  wine  as  my  Lord  Cardinal,  for  he  has  casks  in 
his  cellar  worth  a  thousand  broad  pieces  each ;'  and  then 
he  told  what  he  had  discovered.  Whether  this  be  true 
or  not,  it  is  certain  that  Wolsey  was  awake  to  the  fact 
that  he  was  losing  his  power  over  the  King,  and  so  he 
threw  him  the  magnificent  sop  of  his  palace,  which, 
however,  did  not  save  him  ;  the  King  was  determined 
to  be  rid  of  him.     In  October,  1529,  the  Great  Seal  was 


310  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

demanded  of  him,  his  palace  at  Whitehall  and  all  his 
goods  were  seized  for  the  King's  use,  and  he  was  ordered 
to  retire  to  his  palace  at  Esher.  The  King,  indeed, 
promised  Wolsey  his  protection,  and  that  he  should 
continue  to  hold  the  bishoprics  of  York  and  Winchester. 
As  Wolsey  was  travelling  towards  Esher,  he  was  over- 
taken by  a  messenger  from  the  King,  who  brought  him 
that  comfortable  assurance,  whereupon  the  Cardinal 
dismounted  from  his  mule,  knelt  down,  and  blessed  the 
ground  on  which  he  had  received  so  gracious  a  message ; 
and  to  show  his  gratitude  to  his  King,  he  made  him 
a  present  of — what  do  you  think? — his  fool.  Had 
Wolsey  in  his  disgrace  shown  any  manliness  or  dignity 
of  character,  we  might  think  that  this  present  to  the 
King  was  '  kinder  sarcastic,"1  intimating  that  a  fool  was 
about  the  only  individual  fit  to  be  Henry's  companion, 
and  whom  he  could  appreciate.  But  from  Wolsey's 
conduct  during  the  closing  years  of  his  life,  we  cannot 
give  him  credit  for  so  much  wit  and  moral  courage  as 
the  attempt  to  give  the  King  such  a  hint  would  have 
implied,  and  we  must  therefore  assume  that  the  gift 
was  a  bond  fide  one  ;  and  as  in  those  days  it  was  con- 
sidered the  proper  thing  for  great  people  to  associate 
with  fools,  and  take  delight  in  their  forced  and  artificial 
jokes,  too  poor  for  a  halfpenny  comic  paper  of  the 
present  day,  there  was  nothing  extraordinary  in  the 
gift,  and  no  doubt  the  King  thought  it  highly  compli- 
mentary to  himself.  But  however  favourably  the  King 
might  at  certain  moments  feel  disposed  towards  Wolsey, 
and  though,  from  his  influence  in  the  country  as  head 
of  the  Church,  it  was  necessary  to  go  to  work  cautiously, 
his  ruin  was  determined  on.     Parliament,  which,  after 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  311 

an  interval  of  seven  years,  was  allowed  to  reassemble  in 

1529,  impeached  him  by  a  charge  of  forty-four  articles, 
relating  chiefly  to  the  exercise  of  his  legatine  power 
contrary  to  law,  and  the  scandalous  irregularities  of  his 
life.  The  impeachment  passed  the  House  of  Lords  ; 
but  when  it  came  to  the  House  of  Commons  it  was 
effectually  defeated  by  the  energy  and  address  of  Thomas 
Cromwell,  who  had  been  his  servant,  so  that  no  treason 
could  be  fixed  upon  him.  He  remained  in  his  retire- 
ment at  Esher  until  about  Easter,  1530,  when  he  was 
ordered  to  repair  to  his  diocese  of  York,  where,  in 
November  of  the  same  year,  he  was  arrested  by  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland  for  high  treason,  and  com- 
mitted to  the  custody  of  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower, 
who  had  orders  to  bring  him  to  London.  This  so 
affected  his  mind  that  he  fell  sick  at  Sheffield,  in  the 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury's  house,  whence,  by  short  stages,  he 
went  as  far  as  Leicester,  where  he  is  said  to  have  taken 
poison,  which  no  one  knowing  his  really  pusillanimous 
character  will  believe ;  however,  he  died  on  November  29, 

1530,  and  was  buried  in  the  Abbey  of  Leicester.  The 
words  attributed  to  him  as  his  last  utterances,  that  if 
he  had  served  God  as  he  had  served  his  King,  he  would 
not  be  thus  forsaken,  were  false  in  substance  and  con- 
temptible in  form.  He  never  served  the  King  but  when 
it  served  his  own  purposes,  and  a  mean-spirited  coward 
only  would  have  attributed  his  fall  to  such  a  cause.  He 
fell  most  ignominiously,  without  even  an  attempt  of 
resistance  against  the  King's  arbitrary  decrees,  without 
a  struggle  to  reassert  his  former  ascendancy  over  his 
royal  master.  But  probably  the  ascendancy  was  irre- 
coverable ;   he  had  himself  resigned  it  when  he  sur- 


312  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

rendered  his  palace  of  Hampton  Court  to  Henry  in  an 
access  of  cowardly  panic  ;  and  no  ascendancy  which  is 
not  moral  or  intellectual  ever  has  any  vitality  in  it,  and 
that  of  Wolsey  over  the  King  had  never  been  any  other 
than  that  of  the  practised  debauchee  over  the  unpractised 
one.  Wolsey  was  Henry's  senior  by  twenty  years.  When 
the  pupil  had  become  as  depraved  as  his  teacher,  he 
required  his  assistance  no  longer,  and  in  moments  of 
reflection,  which  come  to  the  most  frivolous,  he  must 
have  felt  how  debased  such  teaching  had  been,  and  the 
greater  its  iniquity  the  greater  the  pupil's  abhorrence 
of  the  instructor,  whose  constant  presence  must  act  as 
a  perpetual  reproach ;  when  the  orange  is  sucked  dry,  the 
shapeless  husk  becomes  an  offensive  object  to  look  at. 

Cardinal  Wolsey  is  credited  with  a  love  of  learning 
and  schemes  to  promote  it,  as  his  foundation  of  a  college 
at  Oxford,  now  Christ  Church,  which,  however,  he  only 
partly  accomplished,  and  his  school  at  Ipswich.  But 
these  were  not  so  much  establishments  to  advance  learn- 
ing as  to  support  and  glorify  the  Church,  of  which  he 
was  the  chief  pillar  and  personal  representative,  and 
which  therefore  it  was  his  pride  and  interest  to  strengthen 
and  exalt,  even  at  some  personal  sacrifice. 

Such  was  the  man  who  built  the  palace  of  Hampton 
Court,  to  the  description  and  history  of  which  we  must 
now  proceed. 

We  stated  above  that  immediately  on  having  entered 
into  possession  of  the  estate,  Wolsey  pulled  down  the 
ancient  manor-house  ;  early  in  1515  he  began  the  new 
buildings.  All  researches  have  failed  to  bring  to  light 
the  architect  employed  by  the  Cardinal.  The  name  of 
James  Bettes  occurs  as  master  of  the  works,  as  also  that 
of  Nicholas  Townley  as  chief  comptroller,  and  that  of 


HAMPTON  CO  CRT  PALACE  313 

Laurence  Stubbes,  paymaster  of  the  works,  and  that  of 
Henrv  Williams,  surveyor ;  but  probably  the  design 
of  Hampton  Court  must  be  attributed  to  Wolsey  him- 
self, who  had  the  examples  of  other  mediaeval  prelatic 
builders  to  guide  him.  In  fact,  we  are  inclined  to  think 
that  the  entrance  to  the  first  court  was  somewhat  of  an 
imitation  of  the  centre  of  Esher  Place,  on  the  river 
Mole,  a  building  erected  by  William  of  Waynfleet, 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  in  1447.  Of  this  building  nothing 
now  remains  but  the  two  octagonal  towel's  of  the  centre, 
just  as  the  gateway  of  Wolsey's  college  at  Ipswich  only 
remains,  which  also  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  that 
of  Esher  Place. 

One  of  the  distinguishing  features  of  Wolsey's  palace 
at  Hampton  Court  was  that  it  did  not  present  to  the 
beholder  a  moat,*  a  drawbridge,  or  loopholes,  or  frown- 
ing battlements  or  watch-towers,  without  which  up  to 
that  time  no  nobleman  had  thought  of  erecting  a 
mansion.  Wolsev.  beino-  a  Churchman,  naturally  selected 
the  monastic  style,  and  the  first  and  second  courts,  all 
that  remains  of  Wolsey 's  original  building,  display  it 
in  all  its  picturesque  features.  At  present  the  palace 
consists  of  three  courts,  the  two  just  referred  to,  and 
the  third,  built  by  William  III.,  comprising  the  build- 
ings surroundino;  the  Fountain  Court.  On  the  north 
side  of  the  palace  there  are  a  number  of  minor  courts 
and  passages,  around  which  are  grouped  domestic  offices, 
stables,  and  other  dependencies  of  a  large  mansion. 

And  here  by  way  of  interscript,  though  the  reader 
may  have  seen  that  we  hold  Cardinal  Wolsey "s  character 

*  In  Law's  'History  of  Hampton  Court  Palace'  we  are  told 
that  a  moat  surrounded  the  whole  of  the  palace,  but  Hollar's 
view  of  it  (temp.  Henry  Till.)  shows  no  indication  of  one. 


314  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

as  a  Churchman  in  but  slight  estimation,  we  must  give 
him  credit  for  proofs  of  aesthetic  culture,  which  was 
unusual  in  his  age,  when  even  the  most  affluent  nobles 
of  the  land  lived  in  a  state  of  rude  habits  and  surround- 
ings. At  the  conclusion  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VII. 
the  annual  expenses  of  the  powerful  family  of  Percy 
scarcely  exceeded  the  sum  of  ^1,100.  The  furniture  of 
even  princely  households  was  coarse  and  comfortless; 
homely  plenty  and  stately  reserve  in  their  entertain- 
ments was  the  rule.  The  love  of  pomp  and  refined 
pleasure  must  have  been  acquired  by  Wolsey  through 
his  visits  and  residences  abroad,  and  though  he  indulged 
in  both  from  personal  inclination  and  political  purpose, 
yet,  whatever  his  motive,  his  practice  led  to  the  ameliora- 
tion of  national  taste  and  manners  favourable  to  the 
growth  of  art  and  the  development  and  advance  of 
home  industries.  His  palace  became  an  example  of  an 
interior  arrangement  suited  to  liberal,  polished,  and 
dignified  entertainment.  It  afforded  hints  for  the  im- 
provement of  domestic  architecture.  Till  then  the 
attainment  of  security  had  been  the  chief  object  of  the 
builder;  the  times  having  become  less  turbulent,  the 
external  and  internal  embellishment  and  comfort  of  the 
mansion,  no  longer  a  mere  castle,  became  the  ruling 
principle,  and  Wolsey  led  the  way  in  these  improve- 
ments in  the  palace  he  built  at  Hampton. 

Originally,  as  Camden  and  Hentzner  assert,  there 
were  five  courts.  Camden  calls  them  '  large '  courts, 
and  the  palace  is  traditionally  said  to  have  extended 
further  towards  the  east,  but  this  is  very  doubtful ; 
probably  the  ground-plan  of  the  palace  now  embraces 
as  much  space  as  it  did  at  any  time.     As  stated  above, 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  315 

it  now  consists  of  three  courts ;  but  there  are  several 
minor  courts  appertaining  to  parts  of  the  original 
structure,  and  it  is  possible  that  Camden,  when  he 
called  the  courts  large,  had  the  really  large  ones  in  his 
mind,  and  that  Hentzner,  the  German  traveller,  who 
visited  England  in  1598,  and  greatly  admired  all  he 
saw  amongst  us,  included  them  in  his  enumeration,  so 
as  to  justify  the  eulogy  he  bestows  on  the  palace. 
'  The  rooms,''  he  said,  '  being  very  numerous  [there  are 
altogether  about  1,000  rooms  in  the  palace],  are  adorned 
with  tapestry  of  gold,  silver,  and  velvet,  in  some  of 
which  were  woven  history  pieces  ;  in  others,  Turkish  and 
Armenian  dresses,  all  extremely  natural.  In  one 
chamber  are  several  excessively  rich  tapestries,  which 
are  hung  up  when  the  Queen  [Elizabeth]  gives  audience 
to  foreign  ambassadors.  All  the  walls  of  the  palace 
shine  with  gold  and  silver.  Here  is  likewise  a  certain 
cabinet,  called  '  Paradise,1  where,  besides  that  everything 
glitters  so  with  silver,  gold,  and  jewels  as  to  dazzle 
one's  eyes,  there  is  a  musical  instrument  made  all  of 
glass  except  the  strings.  .  .  .  The  chapel  of  this 
palace  is  most  splendid,  in  which  the  Queen's  closet  is 
quite  transparent,  having  its  windows  of  crystal.  .  .  . 
In  her  bedchamber  the  bed  was  covered  with  very  costly 
coverlids  of  silk.  At  no  great  distance  from  this  room 
we  were  shown  a  bed,  the  tester  of  which  was  worked 
by  Anne  Boleyn,  and  presented  by  her  to  her  husband, 
Henry  VIII.  ...  In  the  hall  are  these  curiosities :  a 
very  clear  looking-glass,  ornamented  with  columns  and 
little  images  of  alabaster ;  a  portrait  of  Edward  VI., 
brother  to  Queen  Elizabeth ;  the  true  portrait  of 
Lucretia ;  a  picture  of  the  battle  of  Pavia ;  the  history 


316  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

of  Christ's  passion,  carved  in  mother-of-pearl;  the 
portrait  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots ;  the  picture  of 
Ferdinand,  Prince  of  Spain,  and  of  Philip,  his  son ; 
that  of  Henry  VIII.,  under  which  was  placed  the  Bible, 
curiously  written  upon  parchment ;  an  artificial  sphere ; 
several  musical  instruments.  In  the  tapestry  are  repre- 
sented negroes  riding  upon  elephants  ;  the  bed  in  which 
Edward  VI.  is  said  to  have  been  born,  and  where  his 
mother,  Jane  Seymour,  died  in  childbed.1  Grotius 
(b.  1583,  d.  1645)  also  described  it  as  the  most  splendid 
palace  in  Europe.  Says  he :  'If  e'er  a  Briton  what  is 
wealth  don't  know,  let  him  repair  to  Hampton  Court, 
and  then  view  all  the  palaces  of  the  earth,  when  he  will 
say :  "  Those  are  the  residences  of  Kings,  but  this  of 
the  gods." ' 

The  above  descriptions,  of  course,  apply  to  a  period 
posterior  to  the  occupation  of  the  palace  by  Wolsey, 
but  we  shall  presently  see  how  great  was  its  splendour 
in  the  days  of  the  Cardinal,  before  the  alterations  made 
by  Henry  VIII.,  who  wished  as  much  as  possible  to 
extinguish  Wolsey 's  memory ;  but  the  old  dark-red 
brick  walls,  with  still  darker  lines  of  bricks  in  diamond 
shapes  running  along  them,  the  mixture  of  Gothic 
archways  and  square  mullioned  windows,  the  turrets 
and  cupolas,  and  tall  twisted  and  cross-banded  chimneys 
of  the  first  and  second  courts,  all  belong  to  the  period 
of  Wolsey. 

Let  us  enter  these  courts. 

The  usual  approach  to  the  palace  is  from  the  west. 
Here  on  the  right  and  left  are  seen  ranges  of  sub- 
ordinate chambers  and  domestic  offices,  which,  it  would 
seem,  appear  formerly  to  have  taken  a  wider  circuit 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  317 

than  at  present,  as  on  Hampton  Court  Green  are  many 
coeval  buildings,  including  a  handsome  gateway.     The 
kitchens  with  their  dependent  offices  were  on  the  north 
side  of  the  palace,  where  they  still  remain,   and  are 
provided  with  avenues  and  suitable  passages,  communi- 
cating with  the  great  hall  and  principal  rooms.     The 
entrance  to  this  office  range  is  by  a  plain  but  handsome 
gateway  in  the  western  front,  to  the  left  of  the  chief 
gateway,   which    gives   admittance   to  the    first   court. 
This   gateway,  built  of  brick,    with   stone    embellish- 
ments, has  over  the  portal  a  bay-window,  adorned  with 
the  royal  arms,  and  divided  by  mullioned  compartments 
into  two  series  of  lights.     This  central  division  of  the 
west  front  is  flanked  by  octagon  towers.     The  gateway 
was  originally  provided  with  fine  oak  gates ;  these  were 
for  many  years  put  aside  as  lumber,  but  have  lately 
been  rehung,  after  undergoing   careful   repair.      They 
are   of  massive  dimensions,  are  ornamented    with  the 
usual  linen-fold  pattern,  and  are  evidently  of  Wolsey's 
time.     Their  outer  face  is  pierced  with  shot  and  bullet 
holes,    which    may   have   been    occasioned   during   the 
skirmishes  in  the  civil  wars,  when  fighting  was  going 
on  outside  the  palace  between  the  Cavaliers  and  Round- 
heads, or,  as  has   been  suggested,  the  holes  may  have 
been   made  through  the  gates  having  been  set  up  as 
targets   for   the  villagers  of  Hampton.     Before   then 
bows  and  arrows  were  the  arms  used  in  war,  but  it 
appears  that  during  the  great  rebellion  the  practice  of 
archery  fell  into  disrepute.    However,  at  the  restoration 
of  Charles  II.  the   noble  sport  was  again  revived ;  in 
1682  the  Finsbury  archers  marched  to  Hampton  Court, 
and   there,   in   front   of    the   palace,   shot   for   prizes. 


318  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Charles  II.  patronized  their  exercise  by  his  presence, 
but  the  day  being  rainy,  after  staying  for  about  two 
hours  he  was  obliged  to  quit  the  field.  There  is 
nothing  new  under  the  sun  ;  a  modern  military  com- 
mander stopped  a  review  on  account  of  the  rain !  He 
should  have  taken  an  example  by  the  British  workman, 
who  scorns  to  carry  an  umbrella,  whilst  the  foreign 
mason  or  carpenter  never  goes  to  his  work  without  one 
should  the  day  look  threatening. 

Through  the  portal  just  mentioned  you  enter  the 
first  or  entrance  court,  which  is  167  feet  2  inches  from 
north  to  south,  and  162  feet  7  inches  from  east  to  west. 
On  the  west  side  of  this  court  is  a  bay-window,  cor- 
responding in  character  with  that  over  the  west  front 
of  the  arched  entrance,  and,  like  that,  enriched  with  the 
royal  arms ;  on  the  turrets  are  placed  the  initials  E.R. 
Over  the  portal  in  the  centre  is  a  bay-window  of  con- 
siderable beauty,  with  octangular  towers  on  each  side, 
and  on  the  face  of  the  towers  are  introduced  busts  of 
Roman  emperors  in  terra  cotta,  which  had  been  sent  to 
Cardinal  Wolsey  by  Leo  X.  On  the  left  is  seen  the 
western  end  of  the  Great  Hall,  which  here  has  a  broad 
and  richly  designed  window.  In  this  court  also  are 
rooms  appropriated  to  families  who  have  obtained  small 
Government  pensions. 

Through  a  groined  archway,  finely  ornamented,  we 
pass  to  the  second  or  middle,  or  Clock  Tower  court. 
This  court  is  somewhat  smaller  than  the  former, 
measuring  133  feet  from  north  to  south,  and  about 
100  feet  from  east  to  west.  The  exterior  of  the  build- 
ings surrounding  this  court  appears  to  have  experienced 
little    alteration  since  the  days    of  the  founder.     The 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  319 

general  effect  of  this  court  is  superb.  The  eastern  side 
comprises  a  third  portal,  flanked  with  octangular  turrets, 
and  is  of  greater  richness  than  the  preceding  fronts. 
On  the  face  of  each  turret  are  again  introduced  busts 
of  the  Caesars.  Some  repairs  were  effected  in  this 
division  by  George  II.  in  1732,  as  is  signified  by  an 
inscription  on  the  exterior.  On  the  north  side  is  the 
Great  Hall.  Wolsey  had  projected  it ;  it  formed  so 
important  a  feature  in  the  design  of  the  mansion,  that 
the  exterior  walls  may  safely  be  ascribed  to  the  Cardinal, 
but  he  did  not  live  to  finish  the  work  ;  the  interior  was 
not  completed  till  1536,  by  Henry  VIII.  It  is  106  feet 
long,  40  wide,  and  60  high.  The  roof  is  elaborately 
carved.  There  are  seven  large  windows  on  one  side 
and  six  on  the  other,  with  a  large  window  at  each 
end.  A  bay-window  on  the  dais,  extending  from  the 
upper  part  of  the  wall  nearly  to  the  floor,  contributes 
greatly  to  the  cheerful  aspect  of  the  hall.  The  window 
at  the  eastern  end  is  an  oriel  window,  divided  into  com- 
partments by  mullions  of  stone.  There  was  formerly  a 
lantern  in  the  roof,  but,  for  some  reason  unexplained, 
it  was  removed  ;  the  compartment,  however,  whence  it 
took  its  springing  remains.  Near  the  east  end  of  the 
hall  is  the  withdrawing  room,  of  noble  dimensions,  and 
displaying  externally,  as  well  as  internally,  more  of  the 
character  of  the  ancient  structure  than  any  other  room 
of  equal  extent  throughout  the  palace. 

A  highly  interesting  object  in  this  court  is  the 
astronomical  clock  in  the  tower  and  gateway  giving 
access  to  the  third  court.  The  original  clock  was, 
according  to  a  notice  engraved  on  the  wrought-iron 
framework,  put  up  in  1540  by  N.  O.     Who  is  meant 


320  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

by  these  initials  is  quite  unknown.  It  was,  till  its 
removal,  the  oldest  clock  in  England  that  kept  pretty 
correct  time.  From  an  entry  mentioned  in  Wood's 
'  Curiosities  of  Clocks  and  Watches,1  we  learn  that  a 
payment  was  made  in  1575  to  one  George  Gaver, 
'  serjeant  painter,1  '  for  painting  the  great  dial  at 
Hampton  Court  Palace,  containing  hours  of  the  day 
and  night,  the  course  of  the  sun  and  moon.1  No  doubt 
since  Gaver  decorated  the  dial -plate  many  clockmakers 
must  have  repaired  and  altered  the  works.  In  1649  a 
striking  part  had  been  added  to  the  works.  In  1711  it 
was  found  that  in  consequence  of  the  removal  of  certain 
wheels  and  pinions,  probably  by  ignorant  or  careless 
workmen,  the  clock  could  not  for  a  long  time  past  have 
performed  its  functions  correctly.  It  seems  indeed  to 
have  been  left  neglected  for  many  years.  Somewhere 
in  the  thirties  of  this  century  G.  P.  R.  James,  the 
novelist,  addressed  a  poem  of  eleven  stanzas  to  the 
'  Old  Clock  without  Hands  at  Hampton  Court.1  The 
first  and  last  stanzas  we  reproduce,  not  for  their  merit, 
but  because  apposite  to  our  subject : 

'  Memento  of  the  bygone  hours, 
Dost  thou  recall  alone  the  past  ? 
Why  stand'st  thou  silent  midst  these  towers, 

Where  time  still  flies  so  fast  ? 
***** 
'  The  future  ?     Yes  !  at  least  to  me 
Thus  plainly  thus  thy  moral  stands  ! 
Good  deeds  mark  hours  !     Let  not  life  be 
A  dial  without  hands  !' 

In  1835  the  works  of  the  old  clock  were  removed, 
but  what  became  of  them  is  not  known  ;  probably  they 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  321 

were  sold  for  old  brass  and  iron.  A  new  clock  was  put 
up,  and  on  the  removal  of  this  in  1880  there  was  found 
this  inscription  on  the  works:  'This  clock,  originally 
made  for  the  Queen's  Palace  in  St.  James1  Park,  and 
for  many  years  in  use  there,  was  a.d.  1835,  by  command 
of  His  Majesty  King  William  IV.,  altered  and  adapted 
to  suit  Hampton  Court  Palace  by  B.  L.  Vulliamy,  clock- 
maker  to  the  King , ;  and  on  another  plate  on  the  clock  : 
1  Vulliamy,  London,  No.  352,  a.d.  1799.'  Vulliamy's 
address  was  74,  Pall  Mall,  which  was  then  the  first 
house  at  the  south-western  end  of  the  street,  next  to 
the  entrance-gates  to  Marlborough  House.  The  motive 
power  of  this  clock  had  evidently  not  been  sufficient  to 
drive  in  addition  the  asti-onomical  dial,  and  the  useless 
dial  had  been  taken  down  and  stowed  away  in  a  work- 
shop in  the  palace,  the  gap  left  being  filled  by  a  painted 
board.  This  antiquated  timepiece  was  entirely  removed, 
and  in  1880  a  new  clock  erected  by  Messrs.  Gillett  and 
Bland,  which  shows  not  only  the  hours  of  the  day  and 
night,  but  also  the  day  of  the  month,  the  motion  of 
the  sun  and  moon,  the  age  of  the  moon,  its  phases  and 
quarters,  and  other  interesting  matters  connected  with 
lunar  movements.  The  dial  is  composed  of  three  separate 
copper  discs  of  various  sizes,  with  a  common  centre,  but 
revolving  at  various  rates. 

We  have  yet  to  notice  on  the  south  side  of  this  court 
the  colonnade,  supported  by  Ionic  columns,  built  by  Sir 
Christopher  Wren ;  the  effect  produced  by  the  intro- 
duction of  this  classical  colonnade  amidst  the  venerable 
turrets  and  parapets  of  Wolsey's  building  is  discordant 
and  unpleasing.  But  William  III.  would  have  it  so, 
and  the  great  architect  had  to  comply. 

21 


322  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

We  will  now  pass  through  the  gateway  leading  into 
the  third  or  Fountain  Court.  Here  we  are  surrounded 
by  a  totally  different  style  of  architecture,  again  that 
of  William  III.  Wren  had  been  appointed  to  the 
office  of  Surveyor-General  of  His  Majesty's  Works  in 
]668,  and  employed  by  him  to  pull  down  part  of  the 
old  palace,  and  to  build  in  its  place  the  quadrangle 
now  under  notice.  It  is  not  a  favourable  specimen  of 
his  art.  The  studies  made  by  him  from  the  buildings 
of  Louis  XIV.  had  but  too  visible  an  effect  on  his 
palaces  and  private  buildings,  so  that,  as  Horace 
Walpole  says,  '  it  may  be  considered  fortunate  that  the 
French  built  only  palaces,  and  not  churches,  and  there- 
fore St.  Paul's  escaped,  though  Hampton  Court  was 
sacrificed  to  the  god  of  false  taste.1  But  the  King's 
fancies  were  paramount,  though  he  readily  took  the 
blame  on  himself,  for  when  the  arrangement  of  the  low 
cloisters  in  the  Fountain  Court  was  criticised,  he  admitted 
that  it  was  due  entirely  to  his  orders. 

The  Fountain  Court  is  nearly  a  square,  more  than 
100  feet  each  way.  In  the  centre  there  is  a  fountain 
playing  in  a  circular  basin.  This  court  occupies  the 
site  of  the  chief  or  grand  court,  which  was  described  by 
Hentzner  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth  as  '  paved 
with  square  stone,  and  having  in  its  centre  a  fountain, 
finished  in  1590,  which  throws  up  water,  covered  with 
a  gilt  crown,  on  the  top  of  which  is  a  statue  of  Justice, 
supported  by  columns  of  black  and  white  marble.' 
The  alterations  were  made  gradually ;  the  south  and 
east  sides  of  the  old  court  were  first  taken  down,  and 
the  present  state  apartments  in  those  divisions  erected. 
The  west  and  north  sides,  comprising  a  room  of  com- 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  323 

munication  109  feet  in  length,  and  the  Queens  Guard 
Chamber  and  Great  Presence  Chamber,  retain  internal 
marks  of  ancient  structure ;  but  a  new  front  was  given 
to  the  whole  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren.  As  we  are  not 
writing  a  guide-book,  we  need  not  enter  into  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  state  apartments,  or  of  the  external 
appearance  of  the  building  containing  them;  it  will 
be  sufficient  to  mention  that  this  modern  portion  of 
Hampton  Court  was  commenced  in  1690,  and  finished 
in  1694 ;  that  the  south  and  eastern  facades  are  each 
about  330  feet  long ;  that  the  eastern  front  faces  the 
grand  gravel  walk,  open  to  the  public;  whilst  the 
south  front  opens  on  the  Privy  Garden,  which  was  sunk 
10  feet  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  from  the  lower 
apartments  a  view  of  the  river  Thames. 

Of  the  state  of  the  gardens  and  park,  about  44 
acres  in  extent,  surrounding  the  palace  and  forming  a 
regular  peninsula,  the  east  and  west  sides  being  entirely 
enclosed  by  the  Thames,  whilst  the  northern  boundary 
is  formed  by  the  road  from  Kingston — of  the  then 
state  of  the  gardens  and  park  we  have  but  scanty 
accounts,  but  they  no  doubt  corresponded  in  beauty, 
as  far  as  the  comparatively  short  time  of  his  occupancy 
of  the  palace  would  allow  him,  with  Wolsey's  sumptu- 
ous pile.  Certes  the  situation  did  not  seem  inviting. 
The  Thames,  so  lovely  in  many  of  its  windings,  is  here 
skirted  on  both  shores  by  a  dull  expanse  of  level  wood- 
less soil,  which  the  utmost  efforts  of  taste  and  skill 
seemed  scarcely  able  to  render  picturesque,  and  in  the 
time  of  the  founder  of  the  palace,  and  even  in  the  days 
of  Henry  VIII.,  landscape  gardening  had  not  yet  become 
an  art.     At  that  period  a  park  was  chiefly  valued  for 

21—2 


324  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  security  of  lair  it  afforded  to  the  deer  sheltered  in 
the  royal  chase.  An  old  guide  to  Hampton  Court  of 
the  year  1774  says  that '  notwithstanding  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  the  Thames,  the  park  and  garden  are  not  in 
the  least  incommoded  by  the  rise  of  the  waters,  which 
in  other  places  is  too  often  occasioned  by  sudden  floods, 
and  though  not  far  from  the  reflux  of  the  tides,  yet 
they  are  at  such  a  convenient  distance  as  never  to  be 
influenced  by  any  impurities  which  the  flowing  of  the 
tides  is  apt  to  create."1  This  may  have  been  one  of  the 
reasons  which  induced  Wolsey's  hygienic  advisers  to 
select  the  spot  for  its  salubrity. 

The  gardens  were  greatly  improved  by  Elizabeth  and 
Charles  II.  Norden,  writing  in  the  time  of  the  former, 
describes  the  enclosures  appertaining  to  the  palace  as 
comprising  two  parks,  '  the  one  of  deer,  the  other  of 
hares,1  both  of  which  were  environed  with  brick  walls, 
except  the  south  side  of  the  former,  which  was  paled 
and  encircled  by  the  Thames.  A  survey,  made  in  1653, 
divides  these  enclosures  nominally  into  Bushey  Old 
Park,  the  New  Park,  the  Middle  or  North  Park,  the 
Hare-warren  and  Hampton  Court  course.  This  latter 
division  seems  to  have  comprised  the  district  now  termed 
Hampton  Court  Park.  But  it  was  not  till  the  reign  of 
William  III.  that  the  grounds  were  brought  to  the 
perfection  in  which  we  see  them  now.  They  are  in  his 
favourite,  the  Dutch,  style — lawns,  shaped  with  mathe- 
matical precision,  bordered  by  evergreens,  placed  at 
regular  distances ;  straight  canals ;  broad  gravel  walks, 
statues,  and  vases.  At  this  period  the  art  of  clipping 
yew  and  other  trees  into  regular  figures  and  fantastic 
shapes   reached    its    highest    point,   and    was   greatly 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  325 

favoured  by  the  King.  But  he  also  laid  out  and 
planted  the  '  Wilderness '  to  hide  the  many  smaller 
buildings,  outhouses,  courts,  and  passages  to  the  north 
of  the  palace.  In  this  part  of  the  grounds  is  the  maze. 
A  broad  gravel  walk  extends  from  the  Lion  Gates, 
which  give  admission  from  the  Kingston  road  to  the 
gardens  and  to  the  Thames.  These  gates,  adjoining  the 
King's  Arms  inn,  are  very  handsome,  being  designed  in 
a  bold  and  elegant  style.  The  large  stone  piers  are 
richly  decorated,  their  cornices  supported  by  fluted 
columns,  and  surmounted  by  two  colossal  lions,  couchant. 
The  elegant  ironwork  of  the  gates  was  the  work  of 
Huntingdon  Shaw.*  At  the  south-west  corner  of  the 
gardens  is  the  pavilion,  erected  by  Sir  Christopher 
Wren,  and  occasionally  occupied  by  the  rangers  of  the 
park.  Throughout  the  park  there  are  fine  trees,  and 
here  and  there  masses  of  verdure  less  formally  disposed. 
There  may  also  be  seen  some  lines  of  fortifications, 
which  were  originally  constructed  for  the  purpose  of 
teaching  the  art  of  war  to  William,  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land, when  a  boy — the  same  Duke  who  afterwards 
became  so  famous  in  the  Scottish  rising  of  1745.  In 
the  centre  of  the  park  there  is  a  stud -house,  founded 
by  the  Stuarts,  but  greatly  extended  in  its  operations 
of  breeding  race-horses  by  George  IV.  The  cream- 
coloured  horses  used  on  state  occasions  by  the  Sovereign 
are  kept  here.  They  are  descended  from  those  brought 
over  from  Hanover  by  the  princes  of  the  Brunswick 
line ;  they  are  the  last  representatives  of  the  Flemish 
horses,  once  so  fashionable.  The  canal  in  the  grounds 
is  fed  by  the  Cardinal's  or  Queen's  River,  issuing  from 
c  Or,  according  to  Mr.  Law,  of  Jean  Tijou,  a  Frenchman. 


326  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  river  Colne,  near  Longford,  and  passing  over  Houn- 
slow  Heath  and  through  Hanworth  and  Bushey  Parks. 
We  stated,  when  mentioning  the  reasons  which 
induced  Cardinal  Wolsey  to  fix  on  Hampton  Court  as 
his  future  residence,  that  the  springs  in  Coombe  Wood 
supplied  excellent  water ;  with  this  water  the  palace  is 
supplied.  It  is  brought  to  it  in  leaden  pipes,  for  which 
some  250  tons  of  lead  were  employed,  and  as  that 
metal  was  then  £5  per  ton,  the  cost  of  the  material 
alone  amounted  to  a  large  sum ;  the  pipes  pass  under 
the  Hogsmill  River,  near  Kingston,  and  under  the 
Thames  at  a  short  distance  from  the  palace,  and  their 
whole  length  is  upwards  of  three  miles,  so  that  Mr.  Law, 
the  latest  historian  of  Hampton  Court,  may  not  be  far 
out  in  estimating  the  cost  of  the  whole  work  at  some- 
thing like  i?50,000  of  our  present  money. 

The  tennis-court,  said  to  be  the  largest  and  most 
complete  in  Europe,  is  where  Charles  I.  passed  many 
hours  of  his  captivity  when  detained  a  prisoner,  or 
quasi-prisoner,  by  the  Parliament. 

The  Home  Park  is  separated  from  the  gardens  by  a 
modern  iron  railing,  600  yards  long,  having  at  every 
50  yards  wrought-iron  gates,  7  feet  high,  of  most 
elegant  workmanship,  and  some  ornamented  with  the 
initials  of  William  and  Mary ;  others  with  the  thistle, 
rose,  and  harp.     They  were  erected  by  William  III. 

II. — Its  Masters. 

In  the  foregoing  description  of  the  palace  and 
grounds  several  historical  incidents  have  already  been 
introduced,  but  such  casual   notices  are  insufficient  for 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  327 

our  purpose ;  the  topographical  warp  and  woof  of  our 
canvas  has  to  be  embroidered  with  the  facts — nay,  the 
romance — of  human  action  to  present  a  living  picture 
of  the  past,  to  put  animation  and  reality  into  the  silent 
shadows  which  flit  around  us  on  all  sides.  We  there- 
fore proceed  to  enter  into  details,  within  the  limits  of 
our  space,  of  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  those  persons 
whose  connection  with  the  palace  invest  it  with  a 
personal  interest. 

We  have  seen  that  Wolsey  lived  in  regal  splendour 
at  Hampton  Court — nay,  his  train,  his  furniture,  were 
more  numerous  and  gorgeous  than  that  of  the  King, 
which  at  an  early  stage  roused  the  latter^  envy.  The 
Cardinal  had  no  less  than  800  persons  in  his  suite.  In 
his  hall  he  maintained  three  boards  with  three  several 
officers :  a  steward  who  was  a  priest,  a  treasurer  who 
was  a  knight,  and  a  comptroller  who  was  an  esquire ; 
also  a  confessor,  a  doctor,  three  marshals,  three  ushers 
of  the  halls,  and  two  almoners  and  grooms.  In  the 
hall  kitchen  were  two  clerks,  a  clerk  comptroller  and 
surveyor  of  the  dresser,  a  clerk  of  the  spicery ;  also  two 
cooks  with  assistant  labourers  and  children  turnspits, 
four  men  of  the  scullery,  two  yeomen  of  the  pastry,  and 
two  paste-layers  under  them.  In  his  own  kitchen  was 
a  master  cook,  who  was  attired  daily  in  velvet  or  satin, 
and  wore  a  gold  chain,  under  whom  were  two  cooks  and 
six  assistants ;  in  the  larder,  a  yeoman  and  a  groom ; 
in  the  scullery,  a  yeoman  and  two  grooms ;  in  the  ewry 
(linen-room),  two  yeomen  and  two  grooms;  in  the 
cellar,  three  yeomen  and  three  pages ;  in  the  chandry 
(candle-room),  two  yeomen ;  in  the  wardrobe  of  the 
dormitory,   the    master   of   the   wardrobe   and   twenty 


328  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

different  officers  ;  in  the  laundry,  a  yeoman,  groom  and 
thirteen    pages,  two  yeomen    purveyors  and   a  groom 
purveyor;    in    the    bakehouse,    two   yeomen    and    two 
grooms ;  in  the  wood-yard,  one  yeoman  and  a  groom ; 
in  the  barn,  one  yeoman  ;  at  the  gate,  two  yeomen  and 
two  grooms ;  a  yeoman  in  the  barge  and  a  master  of 
the  horse ;  a  clerk  of  the  stables  and  a  yeoman  of  the 
same ;  a  farrier  and  a  yeoman  of  the  stirrup ;  a  maltster 
and  sixteen  grooms,  every  one  keeping  four  horses.     In 
the  Cardinal's  great  chamber  and  in  his  privy  chamber 
were    the    chief  chamberlain,  a  vice-chamberlain,  and 
two  gentlemen  ushers ;  there  were  also  six   gentlemen 
waiters  and  twelve  yeomen  waiters.     At  the  head  of  all 
these  people,  ministering  to  the  state  of  this  priest  of  a 
religion  whose  founder  had  not  where  to  lay  His  head,  as 
he  must  often  have  proclaimed  from  the  pulpit  in  his 
preaching  days,  were  nine  or  ten  lords,  with  each  their 
two  or  three  servants.     There  were  also  gentlemen  cup- 
bearers,  gentlemen    carvers,    six    yeomen    ushers    and 
eight  grooms  of  his  chamber.     In  addition  to  these 
there  were  twelve  doctors  and  chaplains,  the  clerk  of 
the  closet,  two  secretaries,  two  clerks  of  the  signet,  and 
four  counsellors  learned  in  the  law.     He  also  retained 
a   riding-clerk,  a  clerk   of  the  crown,  a  clerk   of  the 
hamper,  fourteen  footmen  '  garnished  with  rich  riding- 
coats."'      He   had   a   herald -at -arms,   a   physician,   an 
apothecary,  four  minstrels,  a  keeper  of  his  tents ;  he 
also  kept  a  fool.     All  these  were  in  daily  attendance, 
for  whom   were  continually  provided  eight  tables  for 
the  chamberlains  and  gentlemen  officers,  and  two  other 
tables,  one  for  the  young  lords  and  another  for  the  sons 
of  gentlemen  who  were  in  his  suite. 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  329 

Such  is  the  account  given  of  the  Cardinal's  house- 
hold. Of  his  own  daily  habits  we  are  told  :  The  Cardinal 
rose  early,  and  as  soon  as  he  came  out  of  his  bed- 
chamber he  generally  heard  two  masses.  Then  he 
made  various  necessary  arrangements  for  the  day,  and 
about  eight  o'clock  left  his  privy  chamber  ready  dressed 
in  the  red  robes  of  a  Cardinal,  his  upper  garment  being 
of  scarlet  or  else  of  fine  crimson  taffeta  or  satin,  with  a 
black  velvet  tippet  of  sables  about  his  neck,  and  hold- 
ing in  his  hand  an  orange,  deprived  of  its  internal 
substance,  and  filled  with  a  piece  of  sponge,  wetted 
with  vinegar  and  other  confections  against  pestilent 
airs  (surely  there  could  not  be  any  at  Hampton  Court, 
chosen  because  of  its  very  salubrity  !),  which  he  com- 
monly held  to  his  nose  when  he  came  to  the  presses 
(crowds)  or  was  pestered  with  many  suitors.  (Were 
such  unsavoury  people  allowed  to  come  between  the 
wind  and  his  nobility?)  This  may  account  for  so 
many  portraits  representing  him  with  an  orange  in  his 
hand.  The  Great  Seal  of  England  and  the  Cardinal's 
hat  were  both  borne  before  him  by  '  some  lord  or  some 
gentleman  of  worship  right  solemnly,'  and  as  soon  as 
he  entered  the  presence  chamber,  the  two  tall  priests 
with  the  two  tall  crosses  were  ready  to  attend  upon 
him,  with  gentlemen  ushers  going  before  him  bare- 
headed, and  crying :  '  On,  masters,  before,  and  make 
room  for  my  lord  !'  The  crowd  thus  called  on  consisted 
not  only  of  common  suitors,  but  often  of  peers  of  the 
realm,  who  chose,  or  by  circumstances  were  obliged, 
thus  to  crouch  to  an  upstart.  In  this  state  the 
Cardinal  proceeded  down  his  hall,  with  a  sergeant-at- 
arms  before  him,  carrying  a  large  silver  mace,  and  two 


330  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

gentlemen,  each  carrying  a  large  plate  of  silver.  On 
his  arrival  at  the  gate  or  hall-door,  he  found  his  mule 
ready,  covered  with  crimson  velvet  trappings.  The 
cavalcade  which  accompanied  him  when  he  took  the  air 
or  went  to  preside  over  some  meeting  was  of  course 
equally  pompous,  consisting  of  men-at-arms  and  a  long 
train  of  nobility  and  gentry. 

Fancy  what  a  life  to  lead  day  after  day !  None  but 
the  vainest  of  coxcombs,  the  most  conceited,  arrogant, 
and  ostentatious  of  small-minded  parvenus,  could  have 
borne  it  for  any  length  of  time.  But  it  agreed  with 
Wolsey's  shoddy  greatness ;  he  delighted  in  all  that  has 
ever  delighted  small  minds — idle  show  and  pompous 
exhibitions.  Both  at  Whitehall  and  Hampton  Court 
he  held  high  revel,  as  we  learn  from  George  Cavendish, 
his  gentleman  usher,  especially  when  the  King  paid 
him  a  visit.  '  At  such  times,1  says  Cavendish,  '  there 
wanted  no  preparations  or  goodly  furniture,  with  viands 
of  the  finest  sorts  .  .  .  such  pleasures  were  then  devised 
for  the  Kingfs  comfort  and  consolation  as  might  be 
invented  or  by  man's  wit  designed. ,  Of  course,  Caven- 
dish wrote  like  the  flunkey  he  was :  '  The  banquets 
were  set  forth  with  masks  and  mummeries  in  so 
gorgeous  a  sort  and  costly  manner  that  it  was  a  heaven 
to  behold. , 

Pageantry  has  indeed  at  all  times  been  the  device  of 
rogues  to  catch  fools.  Of  course,  sometimes  the  rogue 
takes  as  much  pleasure  in  getting  up  and  participating 
in  the  show  as  the  fool  does  in  beholding  it.  Wolsey 
took  delight  in  it,  because  it  enabled  him  to  display  his 
wealth ;  but  there  was  also  policy  in  it  when  such  dis- 
play seemed  to  prove  his  loyalty.     But  the  exhibition 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  331 

is  not  without  its  dangers.  When  it  is  made  to  a  man 
who  is  envious  and  covetous,  and,  moreover,  has  not 
only  the  will  but  the  power  to  gratify  his  avaricious  long- 
ings, the  risk  is  very  great.  As  we  have  already  seen, 
it  was  fatal  in  Wolsey  "s  case.  He  had  to  surrender 
Hampton  Court  to  Henry  VIII.  much  as  a  traveller 
gives  up  his  purse  and  watch  to  the  well-armed  high- 
wayman. True,  for  this  truly  princely  present  Henry 
bestowed  upon  Wolsey  the  manor-house  of  Richmond, 
an  old  and  favourite  residence  of  his  predecessor, 
Henry  VII.,  and  also  of  Henry  VIII.  himself  in  the 
early  part  of  his  reign ;  but  it  was  particularly  galling 
to  the  ancient  servants  of  Henry  VII.  to  see  the  recent 
habitation  of  their  Sovereign  occupied  by  one  whom 
they  considered  an  upstart,  and  they  joined  in  the 
popular  outcry  against  Wolsey,  concerning  whom  it 
was  remarked  that  strange  things  had  come  to  pass 
since  'a  bochers  dog  should  live  in  the  manor  of 
Richmond.1 

But  though  the  palace  of  Hampton  Court  was  now 
the  King's  property,  Wolsey 's  connection  with  it  was 
not  totally  severed  from  it  at  once.  In  1527  Wolsey, 
by  the  desire  of  the  King,  feasted  the  ambassadors  from 
the  King  of  France  in  the  building.  The  preparations 
for,  and  the  feast  itself,  are  related  with  terrible  prolixity 
by  the  gentleman  usher  Cavendish,  already  quoted  ;  as 
his  description  gives  a  fair  specimen  of  what  was  then 
a  grand  banquet,  we  quote  from  it  the  following  pas- 
sages : 

'  Then  there  was  made  great  preparation  for  this 
great  assembly  at  Hampton  Court.  The  Cardinal  called 
before  him  his  principal  officers,  as  steward,  treasurer, 


332  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

controller  and  clerk  of  his  kitchen  .   .  .  commanding 
them  neither  to  spare  for  any  cost,  expense,  or  travail, 
to  make  such  a  triumphant  banquet  as  they  might  not 
only  wonder  at  it  here,  but  also  make  a  glorious  report 
of  it  in  their  country.  .  .  .    They  sent  out  caters,  pur- 
veyors, and  divers  other  persons  ;  they  also  sent  for  all 
the  expert  cooks   within   London    or   elsewhere.     The 
purveyors  provided,  and  my  lord's  friends  sent  in  such 
provision    as    one  would   wonder    to    have    seen.     The 
cooks  wrought  both  day  and  night  with  subtleties  and 
many  crafty  devices  ;  the  yeomen  and   grooms  of  the 
wardrobe  were  busy  in  hanging  of  the  chambers  and 
furnishing  the  same  with  beds  of  silk  and  other  furniture. 
Then  wrought  the  carpenters,  joiners,  masons,  and  all 
other  artificers.    There  was  the  carnage  and  re-carriage 
of  plate,  stuff,  and  other  rich  implements.     There  was 
also  provided  two  hundred  and  eighty  beds  furnished 
with  all  manner  of  furniture  to  them  belonging.  .  .  . 
The  day  was  come  to  the  Frenchmen  assigned,  and  they 
ready  assembled  before  the  hour  of  their  appointment, 
whereof  the  officers  caused  them  to  ride  to  Hanworth, 
a  park  of  the  King's  within  three  miles,  there  to  hunt 
and    spend  the  day  until  night,   at  which   time  they 
returned  to  Hampton  Court,  and  every  one  of  them  was 
conveyed   to  their   several    chambers,   having  in    them 
great  fires,  and  wine  to  their  comfort  and  relief.     The 
chambers  where  they  supped  and  banqueted  were  ordered 
in  this  sort :  first  the  great  waiting  chamber  was  hanged 
with  rich  arras,  as  all  others  were,  and  furnished  with 
tall   yeomen   to   serve.     There  were    set    tables    round 
about  the  chamber,  banquetwise  covered ;  a  cupboard 
was  there  garnished  with  white  plate,  having  also   in 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  333 

the  same  chamber,  to  give  the  more  light,  four  great 
plates  of  silver  set  with  great  lights,  and  a  great  fire  of 
wood  and  coals.  The  next  chamber,  being  the  chamber 
of  presence,  was  hanged  with  rich  arras,  and  a  sumptuous 
cloth  of  estate  furnished  with  many  goodly  gentlemen 
to  serve  the  tables.  Then  there  was  a  cupboard  being 
as  long  as  the  chamber  was  broad,  garnished  with  gilt 
plate  and  gold  plate,  and  a  pair  of  silver  candlesticks 
gilt,  curiously  wrought,  and  which  cost  three  hundred 
marks.  This  cupboard  was  barred  round  about,  that 
no  man  could  come  nigh  it,  for  there  was  none  of  this 
plate  touched  in  this  banquet,  for  there  was  sufficient 
besides.  The  plates  on  the  walls  were  of  silver  gilt, 
having  in  them  large  wax  candles  to  give  light.  When 
supper  was  ready  the  principal  officers  caused  the 
trumpeters  to  blow ;  the  officers  conducted  the  guests 
from  their  chambers  into  the  supper  rooms,  and  when 
they  all  had  sat  down  their  service  came  up  in  such 
abundance,  both  costly  and  full  of  subtleties,  with  such 
pleasant  music,  that  the  Frenchmen  (as  it  seemed)  were 
wrapt  into  a  heavenly  paradise.  You  must  understand 
that  my  lord  Cardinal  had  not  yet  come,  but  he  came 
in  before  the  second  course,  booted  and  spurred,  and 
bade  them  "  preface "  [a  contraction  of  four  French 
words,  meaning  "  Much  good  may  it  do  you !"],  at 
whose  coming  there  was  great  joy,  every  man  rising 
from  his  place.  He,  the  Cardinal,  being  in  his  apparel 
as  he  rode  [why  he  did  so  is  not  very  clear],  called  for 
a  chair,  and  sat  among  them  as  merry  as  ever  he  had  been 
seen.  The  second  course  with  many  dishes,  subtleties, 
and  devices,  above  a  hundred  in  number,  which  were  of 
such  goodly  proportion  and  so  costly,  that  I  think  the 


334  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Frenchmen  never  saw  the  like.     There  were  castles  with 

images  ;  beasts,  birds,  and  personages  most  lively  made  ; 

a  chessboard  of  spiced  plate  with  men  thereof,  which 

was  put  into  a  case  to  be  taken  to  France.     Then  took 

my  lord  a  bowl  of  gold  filled  with  ippocrass,  and  drank 

to  his  lord  the  King,  and  next  to  the  King  of  France. 

The  guests,  of  course,  did  the  same,  and  the  cups  went 

so  merrily  around  that  many  of  the  Frenchmen  were 

fain  to  be  led  to  their  beds.     Then  rose  up  my  lord, 

went  into  his  privy  chamber  to  pull  off  his  boots,  and 

then  went  he  to  supper,  making  a  slight  repast,  and 

then  rejoined  his  guests,  and  used  them  so  lovingly  and 

familiarly  that  they  could  not  commend  him  too  much.1 

Cavendish's  account  of  the  banquet,  which  he  evidently 

wrote  con  amore,  is  much  longer  than  our  extract,  and 

that  probably  is  too  long  for  our  readers.     To  them  we 

apologize  for  entertaining  (?)  them  with  so  tedious  a 

description    of  trivialities,*    but   in  a  special   historic 

precis  of  Hampton  Court  such  details  must  necessarily 

be   inserted,  just  as  in    making  an    inventory  of  the 

*  In  the  Middle  Ages  and  Renaissance  days  banquets,  masks 
and  revels  were  thought  a  great  deal  of  ;  yea,  so  great  was  the 
rage  for  them  that  nowhere  were  masks  more  frequently  per- 
formed than  at  the  very  last  place  one  would  expect  them  to 
be  indulged  in,  namely,  at  the  Inns  of  Court,  where  grave 
and  learned  lawyers,  under  the  presidency  of  the  Master  of 
the  Revels — an  office  which  led  more  readily  to  knighthood 
than  professional  merit — discussed  the  cut  and  colour  of  the 
shepherdesses'  kirtles.  Whoso  likes  to  read  of  such  doings  -will 
find  plenty  about  them  in  the  '  Progresses  of  Queen  Elizabeth,' 
and  in  Whitelock's  'Memorials.'  An  account  of  the  revival  of 
the  'Maske  of  Flowers'  at  Gray's  Inn  in  July,  1887,  will  be 
found  in  the  journals  of  that  date. 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  335 

contents  of  a  mansion,  not  the  grand  furniture  of  the 
drawing  and  dining-room  only  has  to  be  enumerated, 
but  also  the  humble  pots  and  pans  of  the  scullery. 

The  banquet  just  described  took  place,  as  already 
mentioned,  after  Wolsey's  surrender  of  the  palace  to 
the  King,  and  by  the  latters  orders.  Henry  VIII.  no 
doubt  knew  that  the  Cardinal  was  the  man  to  carry 
them  out  well,  for  he  would  take  a  personal  interest 
and  pleasure  in  so  doing,  seeing  that  the  banquets  and 
masques  so  prevalent  in  that  King's  reign  had  nowhere 
been  more  magnificently  ordered  than  at  Hampton  Court 
and  Whitehall,  as  already  intimated  above.  But  it  is 
strange  that  the  King  should  have  abstained  from 
appearing  at  the  banquet  given  to  his  royal  friend's 
ambassadors. 

As  soon  as  Henry  had  obtained  possession  of  Hampton 
Court,  he  began  making  extensive  alterations  in  the 
buildings;  the  Great  Hall  as  it  now  appears  was  his 
work.  Having  a  taste  for  art,*  he  employed  Holbein, 
many  of  whose  works  are  now  at  Hampton  Court. 
Items  of  the  expenses  of  building  have  come  down  to 
us.  Thus  in  1527,  from  February  26  to  March  25, 
there  was  paid  to  the  Freemason  builders,  to  the  master, 
John  Molton,  at  12d.  per  day,  6s. ;  to  the  warden, 
William  Reynolds,  at  5s.  the  week,  20s. ;  to  the  setters, 

0  A  superstition  has  been  cherished  from  classical  days 
that  artistic  and  literary  culture  softens  and  refines  manners. 
Henry  VIII.  had  both,  and  yet  what  a  brute,  brutal  in  every 
respect,  he  was  !  Dr.  Johnson  was  another  instance  of  bearish- 
ness  coupled  with  learning  ;  and  Porson,  soaked  though  he  was 
with  Greek  and  Latin  lore  and  wisdom,  was  a  savage,  with 
whom  no  gentleman  could  associate  for  any  length  of  time. 
Emolliet  mores,  what  a  delusion  ! 


336  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Nicholas  Seyworth  and  three  others,  at  3s.  8d.  per 
week,  13s.  8d. ;  to  others,  at  3s.  4d.  the  week,  13s.  4d. 
Some  of  the  workmen  evidently  took  frequent  holidays. 
The  clerk  of  the  works  had  8d.  a  day,  and  the  writing 
clerks  6d.  each. 

The  Great  Hall  was  on  many  occasions  during  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII.  used  for  royal  banquets,  but  as 
one  banquet  is  very  much  like  another,  the  reader  need 
not  be  wearied  with  a  repetition  of  the  one  already 
described :  banquets  mean  eating  and  drinking,  and 
undergoing  the  wet-blanket  of  dreary  speeches  one  day, 
and  what  the  Germans  elegantly  call  'pussy's  lamenta- 
tion'' the  next.  In  1536  Henry  married  Jane  Seymour, 
and  in  the  following  year  she  died  at  Hampton  Court, 
after  giving  birth  to  Edward  VI.  On  this  occasion  the 
English  Bluebeard  went  into  mourning,  and  compelled 
the  Court  to  do  the  same.  Having  been  married  to 
Jane  but  seventeen  months,  he  had  probably  not  had 
time  to  get  tired  of  her.  He  actually  remained  a 
widower  for  some  time,  but  eventually,  in  order  to 
strengthen  the  Protestant  cause  in  England,  at  the 
suggestion  of  Thomas  Cromwell  he  married,  much 
against  his  inclination,  the  '  Flanders  mare,'  Anne  of 
Cleves.  In  less  than  six  months  he  obtained  a  divorce 
from  her,  and  sent  Cromwell  to  the  block.  Then  in 
1540  the  ill-fated  Catharine  Howard  was  openly  shown 
as  the  future  Queen  at  Hampton  Court  Palace,  and  the 
marriage  performed  with  great  pomp  and  joyous 
celebrations.  But  in  less  than  two  years  the  royal 
voluptuary  cut  off  her  head  on  account  of  faults  she 
had  committed  before  knowing  him.  At  Hampton 
Court  also  Henry  married  his  last  wife,  Lady  Catherine 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  337 

Parr,  who  survived  him,  but  her  head  was  once  in  great 
danger.  She  opposed  the  King  on  some  religious 
question,  and  in  great  wrath  he  ordered  an  impeach- 
ment to  be  drawn  up  against  her ;  but  she,  being  warned 
of  her  danger,  spoke  so  humbly  of  the  foolishness  of  her 
sex  that  when  the  Chancellor  came  to  arrest  her  Henry 
ordered  the  '  beast ,  to  be  gone. 

In  1538  Henry  VIII.,  who  was  particularly  fond  of 
hunting,  but  who  was  then  so  fat  and  unwieldy  that 
he  required  special  facilities  for  following  his  favourite 
sport,  and  needed  them  close  at  hand,  extended  his 
chase  through  fifteen  parishes.  These  he  kept  strictly 
preserved  for  his  own  use,  and  they  were  enclosed  by  a 
wooden  paling,  which  was  removed  after  his  death,  the 
deer  sent  to  Windsor,  and  the  chase  thrown  open. 

During  the  Christmas  of  1543,  Henry  VIII.  entertained 
Francis  Gonzaga,  the  Viceroy  of  Sicily,  at  Hampton 
Court,  and  Edward  VI.  on  this  occasion  likewise  pre- 
sided, in  puerile  magnificence,  over  the  table  in  the 
high  place  of  the  hall,  an  occurrence  over  which  grave 
historians  grow  quite  enthusiastic,  Avhilst  at  the  same 
time  describing  the  splendour  of  the  entertainment. 
But  after  reading  all  this  gush  it  is  quite  a  relief  to 
come  on  a  passage  like  the  following,  showing  the 
seamy  side  of  regal  pomp.  It  is  from  a  curious  old 
manuscript,  containing  some  very  singular  directions 
for  regulating  the  household  of  Henry  VIII. : 

'  His  Highness-1  baker  shall  not  put  alum  in  the 
bread,  or  mix  rye,  oaten  or  bean  flour  with  the  same, 
and  if  detected  he  shall  be  put  in  the  stocks.  [This 
prohibition  implies  that  the  thing  had  been  done,  and 
by  the  King's  own  highly-paid  baker !]     His  Highness"1 

22 


338  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

attendants  are  not  to  steal  any  locks  or  keys,  tables, 
forms,  cupboards,  or  other  furniture  out  of  noblemen's 
or  gentlemen's  houses  where  they  go  to  visit.  [The 
King's  attendants  must  have  been  worse  than  modern 
burglars,  who  are  not  known  to  steal  tables  and  cup- 
boards !]  Master  cooks  shall  not  employ  such  scullions 
as  go  about  naked,  or  lie  all  night  on  the  ground 
before  the  kitchen  fire.  ["  High  life  below  stairs  "  was, 
it  would  seem,  then  in  its  infancy  with  scullions  going 
about  naked  !]  The  officers  of  his  privy  chamber  shall 
be  loving  together,  no  grudging  or  grumbling,  nor  talk- 
ing of  the  King's  pastimes.  [Fancy  the  officers  of  the 
privy  chamber,  those  grand  gentlemen,  having  to  be 
taught  how  to  behave,  and  not  to  indulge  in  shindies 
among  themselves,  nor,  like  a  parcel  of  low  lackeys,  to 
sit  in  judgment  on  their  master's  doings !]  The  King's 
barber  is  enjoined  to  be  cleanly,  not  to  frequent  the 
company  of  misguided  women,  for  fear  of  danger  to  the 
King's  royal  person.  [A  wise  King,  knowing  that  his 
barber  was  given  to  such  practices,  would  have  sent 
him  to  the  deuce,  and  given  up  being  shaved !]  There 
shall  be  no  romping  with  the  maids  on  the  staircase, 
by  which  dishes  and  other  things  are  often  broken. 
[The  crockery  being  smashed  was  his  Majesty's  chief 
concern  in  this  matter !]  Care  shall  be  taken  that  the 
pewter  spoons  and  the  wooden  ones  used  in  the  kitchen 
be  not  broken  or  stolen.  [What  a  lot  of  paltry  thieves 
there  must  have  been  in  the  royal  household !]  The 
pages  shall  not  interrupt  the  kitchen  maids.  [Those 
pages  then,  as  now,  must  have  been  awful  fellows !] 
The  grooms  shall  not  steal  his  Highness'  straw  for  beds, 
sufficient  being  allowed  for  them.     [How  those  grooms, 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  339 

who  were,  as  we  have  seen,  so  busy  in  furnishing  the 
rooms  with  280  beds  of  silk,  must  have  enjoyed  the 
straw  they  slept  on !]  Coal  only  to  be  allowed  to  the 
King's,  Queen's,  and  Lady  Mary's  chambers.  [Rather 
hard  on  the  other  inmates  of  the  palace  !]  The  brewers 
are  not  to  put  any  brimstone  in  the  ale.  [His  Majesty 
did  not  want  to  taste  sulphur  before  his  time !]' 

When  the  Knights  Hospitallers  of  St.  John  granted 
the  lease  of  Hampton  Court  to  Cardinal  Wolsey,  they 
were  on  or  before  its  expiry  prepared  to  renew  it ;  but 
they  never  had  the  chance  of  doing  so,  for  as  in  1540 
Henry  VIII.  suppressed  all  the  monasteries  and  con- 
fiscated their  property,  the  Knights  Hospitallers  shared 
that  fate,  and  Hampton  Court  became  royal  property. 
On  Henry's  death  the  palace  was  chosen  by  the 
guardians  of  Edward  VI.,  then  a  minor,  as  his  residence; 
he  was  placed  under  the  special  care  of  his  uncle,  the 
Duke  of  Somerset,  Protector  of  the  Council  of  Regency. 
But  serious  dissensions  arose  amidst  the  Council,  and 
it  was  proposed  to  deprive  the  Duke  of  his  royal  ward, 
and  an  alarm  having  been  given  that  this  was  to  be 
done  bv  force,  the  household  and  the  inhabitants  of 
Hampton  armed  themselves  for  the  protection  of  the 
young  King.  The  Protector,  however,  removed  him  to 
Windsor  Castle,  lest  the  Council  should  obtain  posses- 
sion of  his  person.  In  1550  Edward  and  his  attendants 
removed  from  London  to  Hampton  Court,  in  conse- 
quence of  an  alarm  that  the  '  black  death '  had  made 
its  appearance  there — in  fact,  two  of  Edward's  servants 
were  said  to  have  died  of  it.  In  1552  Edward  held  a 
chapter  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter  at  Hampton  Court 
Palace ;  the  knights  went  to  Windsor  in  the  morning, 

22—2 


340  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

but  returned  to  this  palace  in  the  evening,  where  they 
were  royally  feasted,  and  where  Henry  Grey,  Marquis 
of  Dorset,  was  created  Duke  of  Suffolk,  and  John 
Dudley,  Earl  of  Warwick,  Duke  of  Northumberland. 

In  1553  Mary  I.  became  Queen  of  England,  and  in 
the  following  year  she  married  Philip,  son  of  the 
Emperor  Charles  and  heir  to  the  Spanish  crown.  This 
alliance  with  the  leading  Catholic  Power  highly  dis- 
pleased the  English  people,  and,  in  fact,  they  soon 
began  to  feel  the  effects  of  Mary's  bigoted  adherence 
to  her  own,  the  Roman  Catholic,  faith.  She  and  her 
husband  passed  their  honeymoon  in  gloomy  retirement 
at  Hampton  Court  in  1554,  but  in  1555  they  kept 
their  Christmas  there  with  great  solemnity,  and  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  the  daughter  of  Anne  Boleyn,  was 
invited  as  a  guest,  though  there  was  little  love  between 
the  two  sisters.  At  this  Christmas  festivity  the  great 
hall  was  illuminated  with  1,000  lamps.  The  Princess 
Elizabeth  supped  at  the  same  table  with  their  Majesties, 
next  the  cloth  of  state,  and  after  supper  was  served 
with  a  perfumed  napkin  and  plate  of  comfits  by  Lord 
Pa^et ;  but  she  retired  with  her  ladies  before  the  revels, 
maskings,  and  disguisings  began.  On  St.  Stephen's 
Day  she  was  permitted  to  hear  matins,  or  more  likely 
mass,  in  the  Queen's  closet,  where,  we  are  told,  she  was 
attired  in  a  robe  of  white  satin,  strung  all  over  with 
large  pearls.  On  December  29  she  sat  with  their 
Majesties  and  the  nobility  at  a  grand  spectacle  of 
jousting,  when  200  lances  were  broken,  half  the  com- 
batants being  accoutred  as  Germans  and  half  as 
Spaniards. 

At   her   accession    to    the    throne   Elizabeth   made 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  341 

Hampton  Court  one  of  her  favourite  residences ;  it 
was  the  most  richly  furnished,  and  here  she  caused  her 
naval  victories  over  the  Spaniards  to  be  worked  in  fine 
tapestries.  Here  was  the  scene  of  her  grand  festivities, 
equalling  in  splendour  those  of  Henry  VIII.  Her 
ordinary  dinner  was  a  solemn  affair.  Hentzner  thus 
describes  it :  '  While  she  was  at  prayers,  we  saw  her 
table  set  in  the  following  solemn  manner :  a  gentleman 
entered  the  room,  bearing  a  rod,  and  along  with  him 
another,  who  had  a  tablecloth,  which,  after  they  had 
both  knelt  down  three  times  with  the  utmost  venera- 
tion, he  spread  upon  the  table,  and,  after  kneeling 
again,  they  both  retired.  [Oh,  the  contemptible  flunkey 
souls  of  those  days !]  Then  came  two  others,  one  with 
the  rod  again,  the  other  with  a  saltcellar,  a  plate,  and 
bread  ;  when  they  had  kneeled,  as  the  others  had  done, 
and  placed  what  was  brought  upon  the  table,  they  then 
retired  with  the  same  ceremonies  performed  by  the  first. 
At  last  came  an  unmarried  lady  (we  were  told  she  was 
a  Countess),  and  along  with  her  a  married  one,  bearing 
a  tasting  knife,  who,  when  she  had  prostrated  herself 
three  times  in  the  most  graceful  manner,  approached 
the  table  and  rubbed  the  plates  with  bread  and  salt, 
with  as  much  awe  as  if  the  Queen  had  been  present. 
When  they  had  waited  there  a  little  while,  the  yeomen 
of  the  guard  entered,  bareheaded,  clothed  in  scarlet, 
with  a  golden  rose  upon  their  backs,  bringing  in  at 
each  turn  a  course  of  twenty-four  dishes,  served  in 
plate  most  of  it  gilt ;  these  dishes  were  received  by  a 
gentleman  in  the  same  order  they  were  brought  and 
placed  upon  the  table,  while  the  lady  taster  gave  to 
each  of  the  guard  a  mouthful  to  eat  of  the  particular 


342  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

dish  he  had  brought,  for  fear  of  any  poison.  During 
the  time  that  this  guard,  which  consists  of  the  tallest 
and  stoutest  men  that  can  be  found  in  all  England, 
were  bringing  dinner,  twelve  trumpets  and  two  kettle- 
drums made  the  hall  ring  for  half  an  hour  together.1 
No  wonder  that  the  Maids  of  Honour  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
would,  disguised  as  orange-girls,  escape  from  the  purlieus 
of  the  palace,  and  frequent  those  of  the  theatres  !  The 
tidings  of  the  defeat  of  the  Armada  arrived  on  Michael- 
mas Day,  and  were  communicated  to  the  Queen  whilst  she 
was  at  dinner  at  Hampton  Court,  partaking  of  a  goose ; 
hence  the  origin  of  partaking  of  that  savoury  dish  on 
Michaelmas  Day.  Such  is  the  tradition ;  but  geese 
were  eaten  on  that  day  and  about  that  time  of  the 
year  before  the  Armada  was  dreamt  of;  they  are  then 
eaten  because  then  in  the  finest  condition. 

James  I.  took  up  his  residence  at  Hampton  Court 
soon  after  his  arrival  in  England,  and  here  in  1604 
took  place,  not  revels  and  masques,  but  a  conference  of 
Presbyterians  and  the  members  of  the  Established 
Church ;  it  lasted  three  days,  and  its  result  was  the 
translation  of  the  Bible,  '  appointed  to  be  read  in 
churches.1  But  even  his  '  Sowship ,  James  I.,  who 
prided  himself  on  his  learning  and  theological  know- 
ledge, was  satisfied  with  a  three  days1  conference  on  so 
important  a  question  as  was  involved  in  his  favourite 
axiom,  '  No  Bishop,  no  King,1  but  when  it  came  to 
feasting;  he  wanted  more  time.  When  in  1606  he 
entertained  Francis,  Prince  of  Vaudemont,  son  of  the 
Duke  of  Lorraine,  and  the  noblemen  and  gentlemen 
who  accompanied  him,  the  feasting  and  pastimes  occupied 
fourteen  days.     Queen  Anne,  the  wife  of  James  I.,  died 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  343 

at  the  palace  of  Hampton    Court  in  1618,  and  was 
interred  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

Charles  L,  on  his  marriage  with  Henrietta  Maria, 
daughter  of  Henry  IV.  of  France,  here  spent  the  honey- 
moon, and  the  plague  then  raging  in  London  (1625) 
kept  the  royal  pair  and  the  Court,  which  had  followed 
them,  some  time  longer  at  Hampton  Court.  Here  the 
King  gave  audience  to  the  ambassadors  of  France  and 
Denmark,  as  also  to  an  envoy  from  Gabor,  Prince  of 
Transylvania.*  In  1641,  when  the  strife  between  the 
two  great  political  parties — the  Cavaliers,  siding  with 
the  King,  and  the  Roundheads,  or  the  great  mass  of 
farmers,  merchants,  and  shopkeepers,  the  Tories  and 
Whigs  of  the  future — was  at  its  height,  the  London 
apprentices,  then  formidable  engines  of  radical  faction, 
became  so  threatening  in  their  conduct  towards  the 
Court  that  Charles  retired  to  Hampton  Court  for  a 
time.  But  the  King's  fate  could  not  be  averted,  and  in 
1647  he  was  again  brought  to  Hampton  Court  by  the 
army,  and  kept  there,  not  in  actual  imprisonment,  but 
under  restraint,  to  November  11,  when  he  made  his 
escape.  John  Evelyn,  in  his  '  Diary,'  records  a  visit  he 
paid  Charles  on  October  10  in  these  words :  '  I  came  to 
Hampton  Court,  where  I  had  the  honour  to  kiss  His 
Majesty's  hand,  he  being  now  in  the  power  of  those 
execrable  villains,  who  not  long  after  murdered  him.' 

After  the  King's  execution,  the  fine  collections  of  art 
which  once  decorated  the  walls  of  Hampton  Court  were 
scattered  abroad,  and  now  form  the  choicest  treasures 

*  In  1621  he  had  been  elected  King  of  Hungary,  but  after- 
wards had  to  resign  that  dignity  for  the  inferior  one  mentioned 
above. 


344  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

of  foreign  and  private  galleries,  and  the  honour*  of 
Hampton  Court  and  the  palace  were  sold  in  1651  to 
a  Mr.  John  Phelps,  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  for  the  sum  of  ,P1 0,765  19s.  9d. ;  but  in 
1656  Oliver  Cromwell,  enriched  by  the  wreck  of  the 
State,  again  acquired  possession  of  the  palace,  for  which 
he  had  a  great  predilection,  and  consequently  made  it 
his  chief  residence.  The  marriage  ceremonies  of  Eliza- 
beth, daughter  of  Cromwell,  with  Lord  Falconberg 
were  performed  here  on  November  18,  1657,  and  in  the 
following  year  the  Protector's  favourite  daughter,  Mrs. 
Claypole,  who  disapproved  of  her  father's  doings,  here 
breathed  her  last.  Hither  Cromwell  would  repair, 
when  Lord  Protector  of  the  realm,  to  dine  with  his 
officers.  Thurloe  thus  records  the  fact :  '  Sometimes, 
as  the  fit  takes  him,  he  dines  with  the  officers  of  his 
army  at  Hampton  Court,  and  shows  a  hundred  antic 
tricks,  as  throwing  cushions  at  them,  and  putting  hot 
coals  into  their  pockets  and  boots.  At  others,  before 
he  has  half  dined,  he  gives  orders  for  a  drum  to  beat, 
and  calls  in  his  foot-guards  to  snatch  off  the  meat  from 
the  table  and  tear  it  in  pieces,  with  many  other  un- 
accountable whimsies.  .  .  .  Now  he  calls  for  his 
guards,  with  whom  he  rides  out,  encompassed  behind 
and  before  .  .  .  and  at  his  return  at  night  shifts  from 
bed  to  bed  for  fear  of  surprise.1  He  was  constantly 
attended  by  a  dog,  who  guarded   his  bedroom  door. 

*  Hampton  Court  had  been  erected  into  an  honour  when  it 
became  the  property  of  Henry  VIII.  An  honour  in  law  is  a 
lordship,  on  which  inferior  lordships  and  manors  depend  by 
performance  of  customs  and  services.  But  no  lordships  were 
honours  but  such  as  belonged  to  the  King. 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  345 

One  morning  he  found  the  dog-  dead.  He  then  remem- 
bered the  prediction  a  gipsy  had  made  to  Charles  I., 
that  on  the  death  of  a  dog  in  a  room  the  King  was 
then  in,  the  kingdom  he  was  about  to  lose  would  be 
restored  to  his  family.  *  The  kingdom  is  departed 
from  me  P  cried  Cromwell,  and  he  died  soon  after. 

After  the  Restoration  the  palace,  which  of  course 
reverted  to  the  Crown,  was  occasionally  occupied  by 
Charles  II.  Here  he  spent  his  honeymoon  on  his 
marriage  with  Catherine  of  Braganza.  He  had  married 
her  for  money ;  he  received  with  her  a  dowry  of  half  a 
million,  besides  two  fortresses — Tangier  in  Morocco 
and  Bombay  in  Hindostan.  He  soon  neglected  her  for 
Lady  Castlemaine  and  hussies  of  her  character.  Pepys, 
indeed,  under  May  31,  1662,  records:  'The  Queen  is 
brought  a  few  days  since  to  Hampton  Court,  and  all 
people  say  of  her  to  be  a  very  fine  and  handsome  lady, 
and  very  discreet,  and  that  the  King  is  pleased  enough 
with  her,  which  I  fear  will  put  Madame  Castlemaine's 
nose  out  of  joint.''  But  Pepys  was  a  bad  prognosticati- 
on this  matter.  The  unhappy  Queen,  neglected  and 
forgotten,  spent  most  of  her  time  in  a  small  building 
which  overlooked  the  river  Thames,  and  was  considered 
a  sort  of  summer  residence.  It  was  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Water  Gallery,  and  occupied  the  site  in 
front  of  what  is  now  the  southern  facade  of  King 
William's  quadrangle,  on  whose  erection  the  Water 
Gallery  was  entirely  removed. 

When  the  great  plague  of  1665  spread  westward  in 
the  Metropolis,  the  '  merry  monarch '  and  his  suite 
again  retired  to  Hampton  Court,  where,  like  Boccaccio's 
Florentines    under    a    similar    calamity,    they   sought 


346  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

oblivion  of  fear  in  a  continual  succession  of  festivities.  - 
Persons  who  are  curious  on  such  matters  will   find  an 
amusing  account  of  those  doings  in  the  autobiography 
of  Sir  Ralph  Esher,  edited  by  Leigh  Hunt. 

Pepys,  it  appears,  paid  frequent  visits  to  Hampton 
Court,  but  was,  it  seems,  not  always  well  treated. 
Thus,  on  July  23,  1665,  he  writes :  '  To  Hampton 
Court,  where  I  followed  the  King  to  chapel  and  heard 
a  good  sermon.  ...  I  was  not  invited  any  whither  to 
dinner,  though  a  stranger,  which  did  also  trouble  me ; 
but'  (he  adds  philosophically)  'I  must  remember  it  is 
a  Court.  .  .  .  However,  Cutler  carried  me  to  Mr. 
Marriott's,  the  housekeeper,  and  there  we  had  a  very 
good  dinner  and  good  company,  among  others  Lilly,  the 
painter.1  Pepys  was  easily  consoled  for  the  snub  the 
'  quality '  treated  him  to. 

James  II.  also  occasionally  visited  Hampton  Court, 
but  the  palace  was  neglected,  and  did  not  actually 
again  become  a  royal  residence  till  the  accession  of 
William  III.  and  Queen  Mary.  He,  as  we  have  already 
mentioned  on  a  former  occasion,  made  the  palace  what 
it  now  is  by  pulling  down  the  buildings  erected  by 
Henry  VIII.,  and  covering  the  site  with  the  present 
Fountain  Court  and  the  State  apartments  surrounding 
it.  According  to  a  drawing  by  Hollar,  showing  Hamp- 
ton Court  as  furnished  by  Henry  VIII.,  the  eastern 
front  was  really  picturesque,  and  agreed  perfectly  with 
the  architectural  features  of  Wolsey's  building.  Still, 
according  to  the  notions  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
the  apartments  were  not  suitable  for  a  royal  residence, 
especially  as  William  intended  to  make  it  a  permanent 
and  not  a  merely  temporary  one.     Moreover,  the  King 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  347 

took  a  personal  pleasure  in  building  and  planting  and 
decorating  his  residence.  He  determined  to  create 
another  Loo  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames.  A  wide 
extent  of  ground  was  laid  out  in  formal  walks  and 
parterres ;  limes,  thirty  years  old,  were  transplanted 
from  neighbouring  woods  to  make  shady  alleys.  The 
new  court  rose  under  the  direction  of  Wren,  and  with 
it  the  grand  eastern  and  southern  fronts.  It  is  said 
that  the  King  once  entertained  the  idea  of  erecting  an 
entirely  new  palace  at  the  west  end  of  the  town  of 
Hampton  on  an  elevation  distant  about  half  a  mile 
from  the  river  Thames,  but  the  design  was  abandoned 
from  a  consideration  of  the  length  of  time  necessary  for 
such  an  undertaking.  Horace  Walpole  informs  us  that 
Sir  Christopher  Wren  submitted  another  design  for  the 
alterations  of  the  ancient  palace  in  a  better  taste,  which 
Queen  Mary  wished  to  have  executed  ;  but  she  was  over- 
ruled. The  same  authority  says  :  '  This  palace  of  King 
William  seems  erected  in  emulation  of  what  is  intended 
to  imitate  the  pompous  edifices  of  the  French  monarch.' 
Unfortunately  for  William,  he  found  after  a  time 
that  Hampton  Court  was  too  far  from  the  Houses  of 
Lords  and  Commons  and  the  public  offices,  but  being 
unable  to  stand  the  impure  air  of  London,  he  took  up 
his  residence  at  Kensington  House,  which  was  then 
quite  in  the  country.  But  he  frequently  visited 
Hampton  Court,  and  it  was  there  he  met  with  the 
accident  which  caused  his  death.  On  February  20, 
1702,  he  was  ambling  on  a  favourite  horse  named 
Sorrel  through  the  park.  He  urged  the  horse  to  strike 
into  a  gallop  just  at  a  spot  where  a  mole  had  been  at 
work.      The   horse  stumbled   and   went  down  on   his 


348  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

knees  ;  the  King  fell  off  and  broke  his  collar-bone. 
The  bone  was  set,  and  the  King  returned  to  Kensing- 
ton in  his  coach;  but  the  jolting  of  the  rough  roads 
made  it  necessary  to  reduce  the  fracture  again.  He 
never  recovered  the  double  shock  to  the  system,  and 
fever  supervening,  he  died  a  few  days  subsequently. 

The  Princess  of  Denmark,  afterwards  Queen  Anne, 
in  this  palace  gave  birth  on  July  24,  1689,  to  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  who  died  at  eleven  years  of  age,  and  thus 
made  room  for  the  House  of  Brunswick.  Anne  occasion- 
ally resided  here  after  her  accession  to  the  throne. 

The  Great  Hall  had  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  been 
used  as  a  theatre ;  it  was  fitted  up  for  a  similar  purpose 
by  George  I.  in  1718.  It  was  intended  that  plays 
should  have  been  acted  there  twice  a  week  during  the 
summer  season  by  the  King's  company  of  comedians, 
but  the  theatre  was  not  ready  till  nearly  the  end  of 
September,  and  only  seven  plays  were  performed  in  it 
in  that  season.  The  first  play,  acted  on  September  23, 
was  'Hamlet."1  On  October  1,  curiously  enough, 
'  Henry  VIII.,  or  the  Fall  of  Wolsey,1  was  represented 
on  the  very  spot  which  had  been  the  scene  of  his 
greatest  splendour,  recalling  the  events  of  the  life  of 
the  founder  of  the  princely  pile.  The  King  paid  the 
charges  of  the  representation  and  the  travelling 
expenses  of  the  actors,  amounting  to  i?50  a  night, 
besides  which  he  made  a  present  of  i?200  to  the 
managers  for  their  trouble.  It  was  never  afterwards 
used  but  once  for  a  play,  performed  on  October  16, 
1731,  for  the  entertainment  of  the  Duke  of  Lorraine, 
afterwards  Emperor  of  Germany ;  but  the  fittings  were 
not  removed  till  the  year  1798. 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  349 

In  1829  the  parish  of  Hampton  obtained  permission 
of  George  IV.  to  fit  up  the  hall  for  divine  service 
during  the  rebuilding  of  Hampton  Church,  and  it  was 
so  used  for  about  two  years. 

George  II.  but  seldom  visited  Hampton  Court,  and 
George  III.  preferred  Kew  Palace.  From  his  time  no 
Sovereign  has  occupied  Hampton  Court  as  a  royal 
residence. 

On  November  4,  1793,  Richard  Tick  ell,  a  political 
writer,  who  had  apartments  in  Hampton  Court  Palace, 
had  been  accustomed  to  sit  and  read  on  a  parapet  wall 
or  kind  of  platform  in  one  of  the  upper  rooms.  The 
spot  was  filled  with  flower-pots.  On  the  day  in  ques- 
tion, while  his  carriage  was  waiting  to  take  him  and  his 
family  to  town,  his  wife  having  left  him  for  a  moment, 
on  her  return  missed  him,  and  going  to  the  open  window, 
saw  her  husband  lving  in  the  garden  below  on  the  ground. 
Before  she  could  reach  him,  he  had  expired.  How  the 
accident  happened  can  never  be  known.  He  was  said 
to  have  committed  suicide,  but  there  was  no  assignable 
reason  for  such  an  act. 

The  famous  vine  at  Hampton  Court,  the  largest  in 
Europe,  was  planted  from  a  slip  in  the  year  1768.  Its 
fruit,  the  black  Hamburg  kind,  is  reserved  exclusively 
for  the  Queen's  table.  The  writer  of  a  '  Tour  of 
England,1  in  1798,  says  :  '  In  these  gardens  is  a  most 
remarkably  large  vine.  .  .  .  The  gardener  told  me  1,550 
bunches  of  grapes  are  now  hanging  upon  it,  the  whole 
weight  of  which  is  estimated  at  972  cwt.1  It  bears  the 
same  number  of  bunches,  that  is,  from  1,500  to  2,000, 
now. 

For  the  last  century  or  more  apartments  in  Hampton 


350  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

Court  Palace  have  generally  been  bestowed  on  the  poorer 
female  members  of  noble  families,  or  on  the  widows  of 
distinguished  generals  and  admirals  who  have  died  in 
the  service  of  their  country.  And  several  of  these  apart- 
ments contain  large  suites  of  rooms,  some  of  which  are 
compact  and  self-contained,  whilst  in  other  cases  they 
are  inconveniently  disconnected.  For  the  accommoda- 
tion of  tenants  of  such  suites  there  survives  an  ancient 
Sedan  chair  on  wheels,  drawn  by  a  chairman,  and  called 
the  '  Push,1  which  is  used  by  ladies  going  out  in  the 
evening  from  one  part  of  the  building  to  another.  Of 
the  fifty-three  apartments  into  which  the  palace  is  now 
divided,  some  contain  as  many  as  forty  rooms,  with  five 
or  six  staircases. 

Among  the  distinguished  personages  who  have  at 
various  times  found  an  asvlum  within  the  walls  of 
Hampton  Court  Palace  is  William,  Prince  of  Orange, 
Hereditary  Stadtholder  of  Holland.  Driven  from  his 
country  in  1795  by  the  advancing  wave  of  the  French 
Revolution,  he  sought  refuge  in  England  ;  the  apart- 
ments occupied  by  him  in  the  palace  were  those  on  the 
east  side  of  the  middle  quadrangle.  Gustavus  IV.,  after 
having  in  1810  been  deposed  from  the  Swedish  throne 
by  Napoleon,  came  to  England,  and  occupied  a  set  of 
apartments  here.     He  died  in  February,  1837. 

One  of  the  most  curious  circumstances  in  connection 
with  the  grant  of  these  apartments  is  the  fact  that 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  made  application  for  one ;  his 
letter  making  it  is  still  extant,  and  was,  I  think,  first 
made  known  by  Mr.  Law  in  his  '  History  of  Hampton 
Court.''  The  letter  was  addressed  to  Lord  Hertford 
(then  Lord  Chamberlain),  and  dated  '  Bolt  Court,  Fleet 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  351 

Street,  11  April,  1776.'  He  says  in  it  that  hearing 
that  some  of  the  apartments  are  now  vacant,  the  grant 
of  one  to  him  would  be  considered  a  great  favour,  and 
he  bases  his  claim  on  his  having  had  the  honour  of 
vindicating  his  Majesty's  Government.  The  reply  to  it 
was  :  '  Lord  C.  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Johnson, 
and  is  sorry  that  he  cannot  obey  his  commands,  having 
already  on  his  hands  many  engagements  unsatisfied.' 
The  answer  sounds  somewhat  satirical.  But  what  could 
Dr.  Johnson  mean  by  making  the  application  ?  If  we 
thought  him  capable  of  a  huge  joke,  we  might  think 
he  meant  this  for  one  ;  but,  as  he  dealt  in  small  jokes 
only,  we  are  driven  to  assume  that  he  wrote  seriously. 
Did  he  know  what  he  was  asking  for  ?  Supposing  his 
request  had  been  granted,  he  would  very  soon  have  wished 
it  had  been  refused.  Fancy  Johnson,  the  boisterous, 
arrogant  tavern  dictator,  who  considered  the  chair  at 
a  punch-drinking  bout  in  an  inn  the  throne  of  human 
felicity,  what  would  he  have  done  shut  up  in  an  apart- 
ment in  the  palace,  in  the  midst  of  haughty  dowagers, 
serious  widows,  and  prim  old  maids,  who  would  speedily 
have  complained  of  the  noisy  companions  who  would 
have  looked  him  up  there  !  Had  he  gone  to  the  King's 
Arms  or  some  other  hostelry  in  the  neighbourhood,  he 
would  have  had  to  return  at  early  and  regular  hours. 
How  could  he  have  submitted  to  that  ?  Would  he  have 
taken  all  his  old  women  with  him,  and  how  long  would 
they  have  been  at  peace  with  the  aristocratic  ladies 
inhabiting  the  palace  ?  The  results  of  their  accidentally 
meeting  on  staircases  or  in  passages  are  too  awful  to 
contemplate,  and  Johnson's  application  remains  an  in- 
explicable enigma. 


352  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

In  1838,  whilst  removing  one  of  the  old  towers  built 
by  Wolsey,  the  workmen  came  upon  a  number  of  glass 
bottles,  which  lay  among  the  foundation  ;  they  were  of 
curious  shape,  and  it  has  been  suggested  that  they  were 
buried  there  to  denote  the  date  of  the  building. 

On  December  14,  1882,  the  palace  had  a  narrow 
escape  from  destruction.  A  suite  of  eight  or  nine 
rooms,  in  the  occupation  of  a  lady,  and  overlooking 
the  gardens  and  the  Fountain  Court,  caught  fire  at 
half-past  seven  in  the  morning,  it  is  supposed  by  the 
upsetting  of  a  benzoline  lamp  in  one  of  the  servants1 
rooms.  That  the  authorities  should  permit  the  use  of 
such  lamps  in  the  building  seems  strange,  especially  in 
rooms  situate  as  those  were,  over  the  tapestry-room, 
which  adjoins  the  Picture  Gallery,  and  contains  splendid 
specimens  of  Gobelin  and  other  ancient  needlework. 
The  flames  spread  rapidly  through  the  rooms,  and  three 
of  them  were  entirely  burnt  out  before  the  firemen, 
assisted  by  men  of  the  4th  Hussars,  then  stationed  at 
the  palace,  could  check  the  outbreak.  All  the  other 
rooms  were  greatly  damaged  by  fire  and  water.  But 
the  saddest  part  of  the  occurrence  was  that  one  of  the 
servants,  the  cook,  whilst  rushing  to  the  assistance  of 
her  fellow-servants,  fell  senseless  on  the  floor,  overcome 
by  the  smoke,  and  her  charred  and  lifeless  body  was 
only  got  out  when  the  fire  had  been  subdued.  It  is 
to  be  hoped  that  a  cause  which  might  involve  a  great 
national  loss  has  now  been  removed  by  prohibition. 

In  1839  those  parts  of  the  palace  which  are  not 
occupied  by  private  residents,  and  the  gardens,  were 
thrown  open  to  the  public,  and  during  the  summer 
months  are  visited  by  thousands,  who  arrive  there  by 


HAMPTON  COURT  PALACE  353 

rail,  river,  van,  or,  latterly,  on  the  wheel-horse — vulgo 
bike.  The  permanent  residents  bitterly  complain  of 
these  invasions,  and  not  without  reason,  seeing  how 
many  'Arrys  and  'Arriets  come  down  in  holiday  time ; 
but  as  the  palace  and  gardens  are  maintained  at  an 
expense  of  about  PI  1,000  per  annum  out  of  the  people's 
money,  the  right  of  visiting  them  can  scarcely  be  denied 
to  the  public.  Nor  can  the  amount  spent  on  the  place 
be  found  fault  with ;  it  is  a  mere  triHe  in  the  domestic 
house-keeping  bill  of  the  nation,  and  a  larger  sum  is 
annually  wasted  in  useless  firing  off  of  cannon.  The 
palace  and  gardens — 

'  The  pleasant  place  of  all  festivity, 
The  revel  of  the  earLb,  the  masque  of ' — 

Albion,  are  to  us  what  Venice  is  to  Italy  : 

' .  .  .  a  boast,  a  marvel,  and  a  show.' 
'  But  unto  us  ' 

Hampton  Court 

'  Hath  a  spell  beyond 
A  name  in  story,  aud  a  long  array 
Of  mighty  shadows.' 

To  us  Hampton  Court  is  a  type  of  the  progress  of 
the  nation  from  slavery  to  freedom,  from  darkness  to 
light.  Founded  to  gratify  the  pride  and  self-indulgence 
of  an  arrogant  and  scheming  priest,  for  more  than  three 
centuries  Hampton  Court  was  the  symbol  of  oppression 
on  the  one  side,  and  of  subjection  on  the  other.  But 
Time,  which  works  such  strange  metamorphoses,  has, 
since  the  last  sixty  years,  transformed  what  was  once 
the  exclusive  appanage  of  kings  into  the  playground  of 


354  LONDON  SOUVENIRS 

the  plebs,  and  what  this  change  implies  may  well  form 
a  subject  of  study  for  inquiring  and  philosophical  minds. 
But  such  study  must  be  based  on  a  knowledge  of  facts, 
an  axiom  we  have  kept  in  view  in  the  compilation  of 
our  topographical  and  historical  notes  on  the  origin, 
progress,  and  final  realization  of  the  architectural, 
political,  and  social  idea  embodied  in  the  monumental 
pile  we  have  so  concisely  attempted  to  describe,  so  as 
to  endow  the  contemplation  thereof,  in  all  its  phases, 
with  an  intelligent  appreciation  of  the  physical  and 
ideal  beauties,  together  with  their  importance  as  an 
index  of  national  advancement,  which  invest  with  an 
undying  charm  the  palace  and  gardens  of  Hampton 
Court.* 

*  In  Herefordshire,  not  far  from  Leominster,  there  is  another 
Hampton  Court,  a  spacious  mansion  of  monastic  and  castellated 
architecture,  having  a  fine  chapel  with  open  timber  roof.  It 
was  built  by  Sir  Rowland  Lenthall,  Yeoman  of  the  Eobes  to 
Henry  IV.,  who  distinguished  himself  at  the  Battle  of  Agin- 
court. 


THE    END. 


BILLINO   AND  SONS,    PRINTERS,    GUILDFORD. 


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